Chaos on the Hellmouth
by Kung-lou
Summary: Harry Potter had fielded and led vast armies, manipulated intergalactic wars and raised mankind to the heights of first ones but he had not actually existed until a chaos mage sabotaged a Halloween on the hell mouth.
1. Chaos on te Hell Mouth

**Title:** Chaos on the Hellmouth  
**Author name:** Kunglou

**Author email:** AU  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** Harry Potter had fielded and led vast armies, manipulated intergalactic wars and raised mankind to the heights of first ones but he had not actually existed until a chaos mage had sabotaged a Halloween on the hell mouth.

**Author notes: AU, OC, HP: A matter or Perception/BtVS/Bab5**

**Revised 23/11/06**

**If you are unfamiliar with this series I really recommend that you read it for this piece to make sense.**

The attack came swiftly and with blinding intensity. One moment he was standing on the bridge of his own war cruiser, alone and enjoying the fruits of his manipulations and watching as the Minbari home world burned, its remaining defensive fleet fighting a desperate but inevitably futile holding action against a Centauri taskforce.

He chuckled darkly as the bright glow of the binary stars at the centre of Chi Draconis system illuminated the shadows of the blackened hulls of both the attacking and defending fleets. Fusion and gravimetric offensive and defensive systems ebbed and flowed around the seventh planet, Minbar.

His personal troops were busy depopulating the beautiful Yedor of Minbari. The great Minbari capital city which was carved directly into the crystal would be a trophy, a personal accolade of his triumph despite Vorlon interference. The arrogant Minbari never understood how overmatched they were and now they never would. It would be millennia before they recovered he thought with a blood thirsty grin, if then.

He would enjoy watching the surviving Minbari scurrying around the edges of civilization like criminals in a fraught bid to save their disgraceful race from extinction. It would be a fitting end to a foe that in the end proved weak, easily manipulated and who had failed to live up to their own propaganda.

And when it was over, the Centauri would never know that they had been turned into little more than galactic attack dogs. It truly was a glorious feeling to trump his enemies so thoroughly and with such overwhelming force.

He recorded every scrap of data that CSE could get from her interface with his cruisers sensors. Such a triumphful moment was to be savoured and enjoyed.

Then his spine tingled as though an area wide ward had just been established throughout his ship and just as quickly as he had turned the tails on the disgustingly weak Minbari he was quivering on the ground fighting his own internal battle. Far from the Centuari taskforce and the Minbari capital, it was a battle of the mind, a battle that would determine who he was and would be in the future.

Harry was almost overwhelmed in shock in the first moments of the attack as his greatest moment of triumph quickly turned into a desperate holding action of his own despite the eternally comforting presence of CSE.

The symbiotic artificial intelligence, CSE – 001, created from a network of trillions of constantly communicating network of nanites, had long since integrated itself into his magical core, destroying and rebuilding it numerous times over his lifetime in a constant quest to both optimise and enhance his magical abilities. It was an effort that had increased his effectiveness and efficiency as a wizard and also given him an added layer of protection against external attacks.

Already a strong wizard in his own right, the enhancements granted by CSE, combined with two centuries of warfare had made him one of the most deadly wizards alive. It was his experience combined with his raw power that made him more than confident in his own ability to defend himself. Still, it was always smart to have backup and through the process of integrating with his magical core CSE herself had become intrinsically magical and thus capable of defending her host from most magical attacks.

CSE also added more than a few technological additions to his repertoire of offensive capabilities that often proved useful in times of unexpected attack. Throughout his long life however, he had never become so incapacitated that CSE had had to assume control over those defensive capabilities. The AI had even less of an idea of overkill than he did.

Harry snarled in pain and frustration as a foreign magical signature tried to overlay a new memory set over his own, attempting to destroy who he was. It was one of the few magical attacks that CSE would be unable to counter and it was a weakness that he held close in order to prevent every two bit assassin attempting to exploit such an obvious weakness.

He would gut the person responsible for this attack, and he would enjoy it. He had almost forgotten what it was like to constantly be on guard against powerful foes, to have his greatest victories turn into ash in his mouth. It was not a feeling that he enjoyed and he would be more than happy not to have to experience it again.

Mental attacks, boosted to almost ridiculous levels of power that somehow managed to bypass his mental shields were one of those attacks that CSE would be unable to help him with. Attacks of that kind attempted to forcefully embed foreign memories and personalities directly into his brain were devastating in their effectiveness and once foreign memories had been absorbed, they were indistinguishable from original memories. CSE could not protect his mind from memories that seemed native to his own mind.

Luckily he had caught the attack before it had done too much damage and had established his own fort like defences, regularly reinforced and seeded with ever more deadly traps.

Over the centuries he had seen what happened to people that either voluntarily or were forced to assimilated memories and their associated experiences directly into their magical core without mentally isolating and processing them first. It was never pretty.

If the memories were good memories and similar to a wizard's own then the damage was limited, a small personality change was common and expected. For darker memories, it could well drive the wizards insane; more than one dark wizard had been created by originally pure wizards stumbling across the reservoirs of dark memories. As an intelligence and surveillance technique it was invaluable to guarantee and even sway loyalties without any chance of detection.

It wasn't possession in the normal sense nor did it require the caster to supplant the victims will with his own, but the subtle rewriting of their personality with an influx of foreign memories and experiences could radically change who a person thought he was. As an attack it was deadly and brutally effective, but when used with appropriate precautions memory transfer proved to be a powerful tool for learning.

Harry frantically reinforced his external and internal mental shields, introducing blocks to prevent instantaneous absorption and isolating the foreign memories from his mind where he would be able to view them later at his leisure without the risk of a dramatic personality change. His own magic playing an important role in ensuring that his battle remained mental. Harry was well aware of the vulnerable position he found himself in. With all of his focus on his mental defences he was opening himself to external attack.

"CSE," he gasped "Code black, scan" Harry wondered how anyone had managed to get close enough to attack him mentally. His war cruiser was a fortress, both inside and out and he had thought that an enemy would have to expend an army to breech its defensives. Obviously he had been mistaken.

He had not felt so vulnerable since he had led his short crusade against the muggles on his home world, Earth. Then he had been relatively new to his powers and faced a foe that overshadowed him in every way imaginable. Now he had believed himself to be invulnerable to attack, he had fully grown into his powers and time was his ally as he continued to learn and evolve into a deadlier and more capable fighter.

Even if his arrogance seemed misplaced, he refused to be taken down so easily and vowed that his attacker would pay in blood, his own and his clans. It would not be easy, it required a large amount of skill to attack him so easily and he could feel the power tangling with his own in an attempt to overpower him. His attacker was clearly very powerful and skilled, and if he allowed himself to be overwhelmed now then it hardly mattered if he defeated the foreign memories or not.

Chances are, he would not even remember the attack and his loyalty would immediately be adjusted to the will of his attacker. Still, his attacker had made two mistakes that would sway the battle in his favour. At over two centuries of age his own memories dramatically outnumbered those that that tried to supplant his own and CSE had not 0 well.

In fact, he doubted he would be considered human anymore and whether by misinformation or just oversight those factors would insure his hard fought battle would end in his victory.

As he had become accustom to, a voluptuous blond appeared beside him as CSE stimulated the neurons and hijacked the neuronal spikes that interpreted the signals that travelled from his optical nerve to his cortex. "Black target alpha is directing the power that is currently attacking you, downloading coordinates relative to your position now."

Harry grunted as he was fed the coordinates. He was slowly regaining control of his senses as the foreign memories were compartmentalised and isolated. Taking no chances he directed CSE to carefully examine the implanted memories to avoid any nasty surprises. After all, if he were attacking someone of his skill and power he would definitely include something that would destroy the victims mind even if he where to overpower his initial attack.

"Oh my god Xander are you alright? What happened? Something Hellmouthy is going on, we need to find Buffy."

Harry jerked in surprise as a ghostly hand passed through him and jumped up in confusion, only CSE lack of threat assessment prevented him from sterilising everything in a hundred metre radius. Xander? Buffy? What was going on and why was he standing on what looked to by a twentieth century street in the middle of a small muggle town? He had annihilated the last city about one hundred and fifty years ago and not a second ago he was standing on his bridge watching the Minbari home world burn.

"Harry, after examining the memories and reintegrating myself into this bodies biological systems it appears as though your memories and personality are foreign to this body. Not the other way around as you and I first surmised. In fact, biologically, this body appears to be that of a sixteen year old muggle boy. I am already harvesting fat stores and replicating additional drones to address this problem and restore the lost capability. Be aware that your immediate abilities will be severely restricted until I have finished and you will need to re-supply me with additional energy, this body lacks the resources your last one did."

Harry stared at the visual representation of CSE in puzzlement, flicking his eyes towards the ancient muggle architecture. Shaking his head in an attempt to clear it from the feel of the magic that was still trying to overwhelm him he mentally drew up a list of priorities to deal with the strange situation he found himself in. Without the added pressure of defending his mind from direct attack it was easier to hold off the unrecognised magical signature and think clearly.

"According to the foreign memories, we are currently standing in the near vicinity of a hell mouth, Sunnydale California. A chaotic and unfocussed source of magic and a dimensional portal to a hell dimension. More information is required to draw any firm conclusions but it would appear that the citizens of this muggle town have been turned into their Halloween costumes by the magical signature that is currently trying to overwhelm your core."

Harry shook his head again, this time in amazement, his personality and memories hijacking this body and overwriting the original? If that were the case how had CSE come along for the ride and why was the feel of his magical core still strong as it was if it were a teenage muggle body? No, something else was going on and the source of the powerful magical signature was in the middle of it. Beside that, he suspected that while the conclusion of the spell was certain to return the inhabitants of Sunnydale back to their tedious existence, his own magical prowess in combination with CSE would ensure that his existence was permanent.

This meant that he found himself starting with a clean slate to work with and until he could determine exactly how clean, he would have to be careful that he didn't break it.

"Xander, are you all right?" The red headed ghost looked decidedly nervous and unsure as she stepped closer to him.

Harry frowned, restraining his vicious snarl and every instinct that he had to start blowing things up and immediately finding and garrotting the person responsible for him being here. 'Forget garrotting' he thought darkly 'I hear crucifixion is back in.' Clean slate or not, he had been stripped of a lot of the power base he had spent decades building up.

Instead he glanced up at the red headed ghost and came to a decision. He needed time and information before he could do anything, time for CSE to start rebuilding his magical and physical capacity and information so he could plan his next move.

In the short term and until he had started to restore some of the capability that he had lost, he would need to work with the regional players, weak and unorganised as they were. 'If that means that I will have to play muggle teenager for the duration,' Harry thought in distaste as CSE directed him to the most important memories and appropriate highlights of his bodies life 'that's what I'll have to do.'

"Calm down Willow, running off isn't going to do anybody any good. Beside, I am still all Xander, and your sooo Willow, albeit ghostly Willow, so what makes you think Buffy doesn't retain her memories like we do?"

Mentally Harry was rapidly indexing all of the muggles memories. It seemed that being located on the hell mouth made his former bodies friends even more suspicious than Dumbledore in the presence of a lying Tom Riddle. He smiled at the irony of such an image, it seemed that he was going back to school and he was in a much better position than when he attended Hogwarts and far more powerful.

Still, what did that mean for the world he found himself in? The fact that this small town was not swarming with ministry personnel at such an unusual and massive display of magic suggested no such organised body existed. Did that mean that the numbers of magic users were so small and unorganised? Did they even exist here at all? It was also clear from the technology base he could see that no contact had been made with any alien civilizations, friendly or otherwise. At least not at a public level.

As bereft of the resources that had previously been available to him, both human and technological, that could only be a good thing. It gave him some time to mould this world to his will before he attempted to take on hostile civilizations. With the clean slate that he had been gifted with, Harry felt confident that some of the mistakes he had made would not occur this time.

Still he was concerned, he had led his people in a brutal intergalactic campaign but they had already proven their superiority over the magically disabled muggles. He did not know how muggles would fair against such advanced foes. It meant that the challenge would be greater and his eventual success more sweet.

Carefully cataloguing what he already knew, he could already determine that this time and place was different than his own had been. Such a situation made it harder to for him to stamp his will on the world but not impossible. When he was taking over the wizarding world and later the muggle one in his youth and shaping it in his own image, he had made extensive use of the institutions that already existed. The few that he had destroyed, and the resulting power vacuums, only served his interests further making it easier for him to cement his control.

If none of the structures he was familiar with existed then he would have to proceed more slowly. Harry smiled evilly 'nether the less,' he thought darkly 'I have always been a big fish in a bigger pond. With the pond having apparently shrunk nothing will be able to stop me. Still, it seems I will once again have to prove my strength and superiority and time is still on my side.'

Before Willow could respond to his question about Buffy, a high pitched scream came echoed from round the corner.

Willow gasped in shock and worry, "Buffy!"

Harry just watched as the red headed ghost disappeared through a wall before he calmly walked down the street in the direction of the scream. From the memories he had reviewed he doubted that anything here would be capable of harming him, even the so called Vampires that scared the shit out of this…Xander. In fact if it weren't for the weak muggle body and the fact that a majority of his magical strength still fought with the accursed magical signature that flooded the area he doubted they would be any more than an irritant.

"Xander you have to help," Willow yelled franticly.

Harry almost burst out laughing at the site. Here was a blond woman wearing a dress that he doubted even some of his more eccentric concubines would wear, being assaulted by what looked like hairy house elves and trying to hide behind a ghost for protection.

"Xander!!"

Harry realised that he was chuckling at the scene and just shrugged, 'that was just bloody funny. At least I get to have some fun' he thought as he conjured some metal spikes and banished them at the hairy house elves with a flick of his hand. 'Until I have a firmer grasp on where exactly I have ended up, I doubt I will have too many opportunities.'

He tracked the attack and stepped back in a defensive stance in preparation for a counter attack. The magic that was not busy tangling and straining against the oppressive magical signature that continued to try to overwhelm him flexed in preparation for the fight from these demons. He needed to be doubly careful. With his magic as restrained as it was and his body as physically weak, he had little room for error.

The counter attack never came.

The hopelessly weak little buggers didn't even attempt to dodge as the metal spikes impaled them to the bitumen road. 'What a disappointment,' he sneered. 'There were not even worth the effort it would take to finish them off. He had fought muggles with more power than these. What kind of demons did these kids dress up as,' he though in disgust as he searched Xanders memories for more information on the current demon threat. 'Pathetic, but at least the screaming demons would serve as a warning to those that would attack him.'

"Xander!!" The red headed which yelled out in horror over the pained screeching of the impaled monsters, "how did you do that? And aren't those the kids that we took to Halloween?"

Harry just shrugged a dismissal, his secrets were his own and any behaviour that may stir up suspicion later he hoped would be blamed on whatever magic was still affecting events locally. The body that he currently inhabited had not even told his friends what he had dressed up as. He was too ashamed of his Harry Potter fetish and so had slightly altered the costume to render it unrecognisable. A good thing too, to think that anyone would compare that whining, pussy to him - it was an insult.

He looked coldly down at the quivering woman that lay splattered in demon blood. Working with these people was going to get very annoying very quickly he imagined and he doubted it would get much better until CSE finished her restoration of this body. Still, it was in his interests to divert attention away from what he was really planning.

Offering his arm to the woman in the dress, he pondered how best to address her. If she really had turned into her Halloween costume, and he had no reason to doubt CSE logic, then he would treat her as the one of the Centauri's emperor's wives. It was the closest match he could think of that would not antagonise her and if she remembered anything from before the spell ended then it would make working with her easier in the future.

Idly wondering if the Centuari even existed in this time and place he stepped closer to Buffy. "Shouldn't you find Giles to try and stop whatever is going on, I will look after Lady Buffy and make sure no more," he let his eyes stray to the screaming monsters "harm comes to her." He would take the opportunity to have some fun as well, but judging from the girl's horrified expression he kept that to himself. Buffy seemed to be the one who held the most influence in this group anyway and he doubted the redhead had the backbone to act without her approval.

"Yes, servant. Go stop this madness at once," Buffy commanded imperiously as she grasped Harry's arm and clung to his side. Harry could smell her fear and was disgusted, a warrior she was not. Still, she hid it well and that deserved respect he thought as the ghost sped away with a betrayed look on her face. "We'll my lady, while the girl is wasting her time lets go and stop this madness."

Buffy just smiled daintily as he led her in the direction of the coordinates that CSE had fed him earlier. Although most of his magical energy was being spent repelling the foreign magic from overwhelming his core, a much weakened core than what he remembered, he still had enough magic that he could take down some two bit magician who seemed to lack even the weakest magical core.

A magician that was merely channelling another's magic in what he considered a wasteful expenditure of power. With the amount of energy he was channelling he could take over a small country, massacre a small city or restructure his own body so that he could wield greater power in the future. But what did he use it for? Turning a few school children into monsters – pathetic.

He maintained his guard though. Xander's memories proved to be very interesting and provided a few leads and insights that he doubted Xander would have ever followed up. If he understood Buffy's role and significance in this town correctly he expected an attack on her sooner rather than later.

It was an ingeniously plan he thought, very sadistic in its own way and incredibly brutal. A plan that he would have been pleased to call his own, turning the slayer into such a simpering noblewoman before killing her. In her state she would not be able to defend herself. She would be capable of feeling true terror and despair and even if she didn't die she would be scared long after the spell had ended.

Such emotional baggage could destroy her or at the least make her easier to take down. Psychological warfare was truly inspired and any other time and he would have enjoyed the show but this time those plans overlapped on his own and any plan that overlapped with his own was doomed to fail.

"Now aint that a pretty sight." Harry blinked at the crowd of vampires that started to surround his position. He grinned in anticipation as a blond vampire stepped forward even as Buffy stepped further into his arms. He hadn't even needed to go searching, his fun had found him and he loved being right.

"Comic relief man and a useless slayer taking a stroll on a night like this, I'm feelin' a bit parched but I'm sure I can play around first. Fun all round." Harry's grin widened as CSE fed him the memories on Spike. It was a shame he was a vampire, he was a demon that he could get to liking. Spike indeed.

"You know Spike, crucifixion is all the rage these days." He drawled lazily as he conjured seven large crosses to erupt from the ground surrounding the demons. "And what fun it would be. For me."

Spike roared with laughter, "way I see it's ten to one. My kind of odds and I doubt the Slayer is feeling well enough to help."

"Then by all means, let the fun begin." Harry said already moving. The shivering body of Buffy tucked firmly under one arm. He could feel her terror dominating her surface thoughts and being broadcast strongly for those that had the ability to pick it up.

The vampires closed in but Harry was no longer enclosed by the mob. Instead, dust lay heavy in the air and the clatter of conjured spikes echoed loudly as he turned to face Spike. "Bahhh, fledglings. Couldn't you have found decent backup. These are hardly worth my time."

Spike roared with anger, rough ridges stood out from his face and his yellow eyes bore into his. "I'm gonna hang you on those fancy crosses boy, with your entrails."

Harry smiled and gently put Buffy down. Normally he would leave her to fend for herself but until he knew where he was, when he was and what other magic users exited he would need the information she could provide. In the short term at least she and her friends would have his protection, beyond that….

"Oh this is gonna be fun." He smirked as he wadded into the mob summoning small burst of flame and relishing the screams of pain and the increasing frustration of the blond vampire as he slowly worked his way through the backup that Spike had bought to take out the slayer.

Still it wasn't all going his way. As lost in his past victories and war time experiences as he was, CSE earlier warning about essentially being stuck in a teenage muggle body suddenly came back to hunt him as he was kicked roughly into a brick wall. The feel of his ribs cracking brought home that his body didn't even compare to what he was use to.

Harry snarled in frustration. As weak as his magic and body was he needed to stop playing around he thought as he quickly banished the two vampires that were approaching him aggressively onto the crosses that he had conjured earlier. Still, as much as he was in pain and handicapped by spatial and temporal displacement, this was the most fun he had had in a fight for decades and the most challenging.

"Okay now that hurt," he growled as he crawled his way back up the brick wall he had been kicked into. He couldn't wait until CSE started to repair the functionality that he had lost. "Now aint that a pretty sight?" he laughed mockingly as Spike stared in astonishment at the two vampires snarling uselessly from the giant wooden crosses.

"Who are you?" Spike snarled, "What are you."

"Oh you know me, comic relief, and doughnut boy, no one special." Harry suppressed every instinct, every emotion and reinforced every mental shield to be able to make such a flippant comment. Such an attitude was just not him but during the fight he had felt the magic that constantly pressed on his core stretch thin and vanish signalling the end of the spell.

CSE reported that Black target alpha was moving away from his position momentarily escaping his rage. When it cam time, the mage would not be able to run far enough or fast enough to escape him.

With the ending of the spell, he would have to dredge every memory, every lesson he had learnt and apply them to the mask he was again forced to wear to escape detection until a time of his choosing. At least temporarily, as with the last time he was chronologically a teenager he would be expected to fit a norm, a set of behaviours and until he could break out of that mould he had to be careful not to deviate from it too much.

Like last time he would have people in positions of power that would, at the slightest hint that anything was wrong, step in and try to interfere with his plans or even move to bind HIM to their will. He had already escaped from slavery once and he was not keen to submit to such restrictions again.

As much as he wanted to flare his magic, once again free from foreign influence, or disappear leaving a bloody slaughter in his wake he needed to stay where he was least he attract the attention of those that he was in no position to combat, YET. It galled him to admit that he was not at the top of the pecking order anymore; in fact until CSE could restore some of his old abilities he was not even in the game.

But that would change he thought as the sound of a wig hitting the wall behind him caused Spike to jump back. Yes, it would change.

"Abracadabra," Buffy growled as she leapt at Spike and his remaining buddies hammering her fist into the face of one and throwing the other in Spikes direction. Her Halloween costume did nothing to hamper her superior strength and speed as she attempted to take down the last three demons.

"Slayer, this isn't over." Harry frowned as Spike threw the demon back in Buffy's direction and fled. Cowardly, in fact he didn't even try to put up a fight. Harry shrugged and approached the Slayer as she picked up a battle axe from a pile of dust that had yet to disperse. A cowardly vampire was the least of his concerns and he was hungry. With CSE harvesting his fat stores he would need to get something to eat and fast.

"Hey Buffy, I left Willow's body in that direction. You might like to pick it up on the way home. Me, I'm starving, see you tomorrow at school."

Buffy decapitated the last of Spikes guards and stared up at the crosses that surrounded them, "what the hell did you dress up as Xander?"

Harry smiled at the vampires that still struggled with there bindings. He doubted that the conjured crosses would disappear until sometime after dawn and few could escape once he had bound them. "Nothing too impressive Buff," he quipped before disappearing around the corner and leaving Buffy to clean up.

Already he was thinking about the information he would need and the time it would take him to get into top form. As much as he disliked the thought, CSE would not be able to recreate two centuries of improvements overnight. It would not take as long as the first time around but, Harry shook his head, time was no longer his ally.

"CSE, how long will it before I am back to previous capabilities. Assume eighty percent of resources available."

"No more than ten years. To achieve the capability you held at the end of the great conflict will take approximately three months two weeks and three days."

Harry sighed, 'No,' he thought shaking his head 'Xander.' He would have to get used to it. It was not his world and from the boys memories their history was also very different. After he had filled up his energy stores he would need to break into Giles library to examine the differences and see how they affected his plans. Until he had some solid information to work on then any plans he made would be half baked.

It was times like this that he missed his private fleet of battle cruisers and personal order of warriors. The sooner he started rebuilding those the better, alternate universe or not, he always seemed to find enemies out there and no-one was very willing to hand out mercy at the expense of self interest.

Him least of all.

Slipping into Xander's house, his now he guessed, he started collecting all the alcoholic spirits he could find. Xander's parents were drunk on the lounge and he doubted they would miss the bottles till the morning, if then. If they came looking for them then he would have the excuse he needed to clear house. His face lit up in a blood thirsty gin as he walked to his room with his arms full of the alcoholic beverages.

Memories of an abusive childhood flared in his mind and he could only be thankful that the Dursley's were not drunkards as well as abusive.

He doubted he would have survived if they had. Despite that, he was lucky Xander's parents kept a well stocked liquor cabinet. CSE would be able to breakdown the high calorie carbon chains and use them to accelerate the changes that she was making to his body. It was energy intensive work and there was only so much she could strip from his energy stores before it became counter productive.

Until then he would work on his mental shields and fully integrating Xanders memories into his own. It would not do to be caught out by something as simple as a reminiscing childhood friend when there were infinitely more deadly foes out there.

So while Xander meditated, surrounded by now empty bottles of alcoholic spirits and readying his plans for the future CSE continued to undertake the process that she was programmed for. The trillions of nanites that made up CSE system and which flooded Xanders body acted to repair any damage that they found and correct faults, both genetic and endemic and when finished, it would technologically and where possible biologically enhance the bodies own processes, working from over two centuries of data.

Normally it took seven years to completely replace every cell within the human body and more than triple that to fully mature the brain, the immune system and multiple other complicated systems that had spend a billion years evolving. These systems needed years to fully develop past gestation and birth and if during that process the body did not get sufficient nutrients to fuel this development then sometimes irreparable harm could be done, shortening the life expectancy and forever limiting the bodies full potential.

However CSE had been doing this for over two hundred years. The AI was intimately familiar with her hosts biology and the technological data that he ad been exposed to. It would not take even a fraction of that time and CSE was pleased to be working with a clean slate herself. Over the centuries she had made some errors in logic due to lacking information that could now be corrected.

* * *

"Giles, did Xander tell you what he dressed as last night? Cause he was kicking major vamp ass last night."

Giles sighed as Buffy stormed into his library, loudly disturbing the quiet sanctuary with her crude American vulgarities. "No he did not, but perhaps if you where more specific than 'kicking major vampire ass' I may be able to narrow it down." His wry comment seemed to go unnoticed as the blond teen bounced herself onto one of his tables. "Was he dressed as a fictional or non-fictional character?" Giles asked the blond slayer.

She shrugged her shoulders and started to describe the fight. He should have known better than to expect a slayer to pay attention to anything other a fight, it was why there where watchers in the first place. "He was like with all the metal spikes and flammy knives, dusted four vamps himself and crucified two. I took down the last two when the spell ended and Spike got away again."

The older librarian shuddered and reached for his glasses, "cru…crucified, Good Lord."

"Yeah," Buffy pouted as she pulled out a stick of gum "they were still there at dawn I think. Why couldn't I have dressed as Xena?"

The image was horrifying and as Giles furiously polished his glasses he was once again very glad that the chaos magic from the previous night seemed to have no permanent effect. A character like that on the corrupting energies of the Hell Mouth would be a disaster. Still, it was best to be sure. "You haven't noticed any after effects have you?"

"Nah, nothing big" Buffy sighed as she picked up a random book and started flicking through it. "Just an overwhelming compulsion to sow something - stupid noble women."

Buffy pouted again and started to play with her now thoroughly chewed piece of gum. 'I am surprised that watchers last as long as they do, it's almost as if the children deliberately try to wind me up.' The older Librarian thought as he watched Buffy with narrowed eyes.

Just as he was about to snap at his blond charge though someone ran into the library doors, "owie" Putting his now meticulously polished glasses back on, Giles invited Willow in thinking of events last night. As always seemed to happen on the Hell Mouth, he had been relaxing into a quiet night to catch up with his watcher diaries and upcoming prophecies when Willow had floated in with an emergency.

He didn't mind admitting that she had scared the bejesus out of him when she had emerged from his filling system like that. It had been easy enough to deduce Ethan's part in the mayhem and from then a small step to ending the spell that had engulfed the Hell Mouth.

The only oddity in the whole night was that Willow had claimed that Xander had remembered who he was and now with Buffy's description of his powers he was intrigued. Xander's refusal to tell them what he had dressed up as added to the mystery, he had seemed almost embarrassed about it. Strange.

Such a powerful character, why the secrecy? Giles had been on the Hell Mouth long enough to know that strange could well come back to haunt you unless it were looked in to and he was determined to do just that. Nothing would harm his charges while he was watcher, even as annoying as they sometimes were. 'Hard to believe I was ever that young,' Giles thought as his mind wondered to his past as the Ripper.

"Morning Giles, Xander in yet." Willow sighed in disappointment as he shook his head and gestured towards a chair. She had also been worried by his behaviour last night. Xander may have appeared to remember who he was but Willow mentioned that he had been cold and evil like and he couldn't imagine the Xander he knew crucifying a pair of vampires and leaving them to be tortured by the dawn even if he were capable.

With the spell over he doubted it was important and he guessed that even the small remaining remnants of the spell, like Buffy's compulsion to sow and Willow's unthinking attempts to walk through walls, would fade over time. But the secrecy still bugged him.

"Hey watcher man, I bring doughnuts" announced the man in question from the door of the library. Giles moaned as he though about the sickly sweet and sticky pastries in his library and moved to take away some of his books from immediate danger.

"Xander, have you noticed any lingering effects from the spell last night? It may be important."

"Like what G-Man?" he took a deep breath at the moniker. No matter how many times he asked the boy…. Giles just shook his head in annoyance. The boy just loved to wind him up and he would not give him the satisfaction.

"Some lingering personalities or compulsions from you character perhaps. What was your character last night, none of us can place it." Giles fixed him with a hard stare urging him to answer. It had always worked in the past but this time the young man just shrugged it off.

Xander just smiled as Buffy and Willow tried their best not to look interested as they dug into the pastries. "No lingering effects that I've noticed G-man. As for who I was dressed up as, you work in the library. I am sure I have no need to actually tell you – ruin the fun of doing all that research wouldn't it?"

Giles smiled as Buffy latched onto one of his arms and started to plead for an answer even as Willow started to sternly browbeat the boy. 'Yes,' he thought with a small smile 'as annoying as the American teenagers were he wouldn't want to be anywhere else.'

But with so many irregularities it would be better to be sure and the part of him that was and always would be the Ripper, all the old instincts and experiences with chaos magic sat uncomfortably within him. Something about the group dynamic had changed and he was uncertain what it was. Buffy still seemed weapons and boyfriend obsessed and Willow still sat uncomfortably as the group Geek afraid of rejection.

Xander, Giles sighed in frustration Xander was still the boy who provided comic relief and attempted to fight the fight without the skills or power to keep him from harm. But something still grated he thought as he retreated to his Watcher Diaries in an attempt to find inspiration.

* * *

Xander stepped into the dank cavern that housed the Hell Mouth and chuckled in delight. The magical portal to hell emitted a feeling of rage, hatred and madness that was almost visible in its intensity. It was perfect. The feel of this location suited him much more than the stuffy feel of Hogwarts.

"CSE, please tell me that you can do something with this place. It's not Slytherin's chamber but the Hell Mouth promises to be much more useful as a magical source of mystical convergance than Hogwarts ever was. The structured magics of those wards were stifling. This… This is magnificent," he announced with a dark grin firmly plastered on his face.

Xander remembered back to his second year at Hogwarts when he had first discovered the ancient cavern below his school. It was perfectly positioned for easy access to the giant bastion of light magic, Hogwarts, easily defensible and well hidden and secured from casual discovery or attack.

It also proved the perfect solution to a growing problem that he and CSE were discovering with her design, being restricted to her host's biological body proved to be limiting CSE in terms of processing power and storage capacity. The relatively small space left no room for expansion and although her AI would forever remain firmly integrated into Xander's magical core her potential remained severely constrained by space.

As such Slytherin's chamber proved ripe for conversion into a supercomputer that would allow CSE to constantly expand her own capabilities without having to worry about physical discovery and add it to Xander's own. Even though the facilities existence was aggressively hidden and its destruction would not mean the death of CSE, it still proved to be prudent to make the chamber one of the most heavily guarded regions in the galaxy.

"Certainly, this place is more than satisfactory. I will start with defensive construction immediately. The proximity to the Hell Mouth will also prove useful for your plans and the increase in resources will speed the return of our previous capabilities."

Xander grinned at the sight of the flow of a few million nanites that appeared as small silvery tendrils flowing from his skin being sucked into the bed rock under his high school. The nanites would quickly harvest the needed resources from the bed rock and multiply as they started the construction of the computing facility around the Hell Mouth. It would also, Xander decided, give him a secure place to base his operations from until he found something more permanent.

He smiled at the thought of anyone trying to attack the Hell Mouth once CSE finished with the defences. Magically and technologically they would be considered godlike and he made a note to record any attempted assaults on this location. It would make pleasant viewing.

Still, that was then. Xander growled in frustration, now he was still feeling impossibly weak. CSE assured him that her repairs and enhancing processes were running on schedule but they would never be fast enough for his liking. In fact his constant involvement in conflicts, local and intergalactic had only steepened the rate in which he acquired power. To have it all ripped away from him so suddenly…..

Xander shuddered. Despite that, he was not always the more powerful in conflicts and he had always succeeded where others had failed and so it was counter productive to bemoan something that he could not help.

Until he gained his full powers back, he would have to pursue other avenues of gaining the resources he needed. It had been mere child's play to absorb the original memories of Alexander Harris into his own and ingratiate himself into his old group of friends. Only the old Watcher was even aware that things had changed, and a surface scan of the reformed chaos wizard had revealed that not even he had any idea of how or why.

From there it was a simple matter of a few small burst of magic to persuade his teacher and the school principle that he was legitimately missing class. Not even his friends would miss him and tonight he would ensure that he had full access to the Watchers library.

Oh yes. He may be as weak as a baby compared to his usual strength but that didn't mean he was helpless or had to be idle while CSE build his capabilities back up to spec. No-one ever said that he was reliant on CSE for everything. He would have tortured them for years if they had.


	2. A disruption of the rules

**Title:** Chaos on the Hellmouth  
**Author name:** Kunglou

**Author email:** AU  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** Harry Potter had fielded and led vast armies, manipulated intergalactic wars and raised mankind to the heights of first ones but he had not actually existed until a chaos mage had sabotaged a Halloween on the hell mouth.

**Author notes: AU, OC, HP: A matter or Perception/BtVS/Bab5**

**Revised 23/11/06**

**If you are unfamiliar with the perception series I really recommend that you read the first two pieces for this instalment to make sense. Keep in mind that Xander was possessed, his memories merged with the more dominant personality of Harry's.**

Ch2 – A disruption of the rules

"What we have feared has come to pass," announced a disembodied voice. The disembodied voice sounded like both a man and a woman speaking almost in synchronicity and as it echoed through the artificially constructed plane several levels above that of mortal understanding; it could have been any number of powerful beings that inhabited the universe or a group of them.

"We must act soon before it becomes too late to avoid interfering directly, if that happens then the rules of the game will shift significantly." Since the plane existed so far above normal understanding, it could only be comprehended metaphorically and through extensive use of symbolism. As a result it was not unusual that while it was as vast as the universe and encompassed several dimensions in their entirety, it only contained a single game board. Time and space were only useful in absolutes and not the metaphors that obscured the reality of this plane of existence.

"What of the others?" In fact it had been created for the sole purpose of keeping score of an old argument, an old conflict. Numerous red and blue spheres dotted the game board and though the red spheres out numbered the blue, any experienced player in the game, or indeed any powerful entity that had observed the game play out would see that the blue pieces held strategically superior positions on the board. Even so, neither the blue nor the red where in any position to claim victory.

"They have been contacted and they have proposed a temporary suspension, until the normal rules of play have been restored." Red and blue spheres bobbed and danced across the board in an eternal struggle for supremacy as they had since the birth of the universe. But where until recently the board had been pristine in its purity, now it was marked by black hairline fractures that spidered across the board.

"There is a precedent," the voice commented. "It is why we left only those able to draw upon OUR power in the game. It allowed us a greater control over the rules and ultimately the outcome." The spidery cracks in the game board were symbolic only of a disruption of the foundations of the game. If left unchecked it had the potential to destroy the game board, cutting the pieces adrift. It was a potentially disastrous outcome for the powers that had been contesting their truth since the dawn of the universe. Even worse, if the pieces were cut adrift then ultimate control over them would be lost.

"Fools!!" a mocking laughter intruded on the plane, interrupting the dialogue of the voice as another powerful entity touched the plane with their power. "Do you imagine that YOUR purpose, YOUR argument is the only truth? In all the time you have been playing you have lost sight of your ultimate goals. Your attempt to destroy that which you feared has already led to your ruin, you have lost and you do not even realize it yet."

"We will not let you interfere or hinder our ultimate victory. Humanity shall see our truth and if it becomes necessary we will purge the game board and restart our conflict." Despite the harshness of the words and the mocking sneer from the other power, the disembodied voice remained as emotionless as it always had.

"Will you indeed," the mocking voice chuckled as he left the plane as suddenly as he had entered it. The red and blue spheres continued their eternal weavings across the board ignorant of both the game board on which they played and the entities discussing their destinies.

"It is concerning that he has gained enough power to interfere with our differing of opinions into their fate, our search for truth," a third disembodied voice echoed across the plane. Its dark whisper swept across the board causing a small flurry as the pieces subconsciously reacted to it even as they had remained unaffected by the dual voices of the first and second entity.

"Have you decided? The fact that he has gained so much power already risks threatening thousands of years of planning, more if the board is permanently damaged."

While the plane was both integrally linked and removed from the constant flow of time, the powers of such potent entities touching the plane at the same time caused an infinitesimal shift. Even the entities that monitored and fought with their proxies on the game board failed to notice the shift as they concentrated on an age old argument.

"We agree, the board cannot be allowed to be damaged and the game MUST be played to its conclusion." Both powers left the plane with a new agreement in place and the colored spheres bobbing and weaving for advantage as they had always done. To them, the resolution of their age old conflict was more important than anything.

Still, even with the temporary suspension of rules, the black spidery cracks continued to weave their way across the game board aided by the unnoticed shift in the plane.

Change it seemed, was inevitable.

"Giles, Xander's turned evil." The old watcher spat out the mouthful of tea he had been casually sipping while he had been doing some background reading on the Hell Mouth. The arrival of Buffy's old crush Billy and the subsequent attempt on her life had not settled his nerves or the anxiety that he had felt since Halloween. He was worried that he was missing something important and as sad as it was Billy's attempt on Buffy's life was just routine for the Hell Mouth. Still, even with his increased reading he had not found the source of his anxiety. "Either that or he's been possessed, I can't tell which."

"Dear Lord," Giles muttered as he pictured citizens being crucified across Sunnydale and an unholy slaughter following in its wake as Xander's Halloween costume rampaged through the town. The older watcher shuddered; he still had not forgotten the powerful and seemingly cruel figure that had possessed the boy at Halloween, nor the way in which he had casually used that power for destruction and mayhem. Giles flickered his gaze towards his blond charge as she stalked into his library with worry, would she be able to stop a figure that had taken a master vampire apart with such ease?

Perhaps she had meant something else, after all evil possessions on the Hell Mouth could have been any number of demons. Some of them even more monstrous than Xander's Halloween costume had seemed.

"A…and what makes you say that?" He stuttered as he carefully mopped up his spilt tea before it damaged his rare and irreplaceable books. "Have you found out what he dressed up as? Noticed a distinct and aggressive change in his behaviour? Sensed or dreamed any prophetic dreams anything with your slayer senses?"

Mentally he was going through a list of people he could call to help in the struggle. His job was to keep Buffy alive at all costs and she would need all the help she could get against such a powerful magic user or demon. He did not question Buffy's intuition, a slayer was gifted with more advanced senses than even a reformed chaos mage like himself had access too and if she felt the evil from Xander enough that she was driven to slay it, then he could only support her.

The feeling of dread that he had felt for the last two weeks deepened as Buffy raided the weapons cabinet. His instincts had been telling him that things were slightly worse than the normal over the Hell Mouth but despite his increased reading and vigilance he had found nothing, detected nothing and now he had failed one of the people he had begun to feel responsible for.

Watching the driven and mechanical way in which Buffy was stacking weapons from his cabinet, Giles could only wonder how he may have prevented Xander loss to the darkness. And a loss it was, Xander had in the past seemed an effective member of their team.

As soon as he gathered all the information he could from his slayer, he would put in those calls. Slayer or not, a powerful magic user was dangerous and if it where a demon, then that was equally as bad.

"Yes, he is spending most of his time with that troll Snyder and when I asked him to come along on patrol tonight he said he was going to stay at home to study. Definitely possessed evil."

Giles stared at his charge in disbelief at her nonchalance and almost growled at his younger charge for scaring him like that. Instead he settled for collapsing back in his chair in relief and started to polish his glasses in nervous reflex. Crisis averted.

"You should not joke about things like Buffy, especially over the Hell mouth. It's almost as bad as asking if things can get worse, incredibly bad luck." 'Bloody American teenagers,' Giles thought in distaste. 'No appreciation for the experience and expertise of others.'

"Who said I was joking?" Buffy asked her watcher with a raised eyebrow. "Come on Giles this is Xander where talking about here. Xander." She sounded out the last into syllables as she stressed he point. "Since when has Mr.-I-hate-Vampires ever given up the opportunity to stake himself a few. There is definitely something wiggy going on here and since when was anything wiggy on the Hell Mouth a good thing?"

"Mmm… Yes, well." Giles sighed again from his chair as he watched Buffy continue to stash weaponry into her clothing. He couldn't help thinking that his charge had been shaken out of her rut her betrayal at the hands of her old crush and subsequent ambush. If it weren't for Angel discovering the plot so soon it is unclear how his slayer would have survived.

Still to accuse Xander seemed over zealous. "Buffy, as hard as it might be for you to accept, this is a school. A place of learning and it is not unusual for someone Xanders age to have a change of heart about his future, especially after an event as traumatic as Halloween."

Even as he finished he had to wince. Here he was lecturing his slayer about normality just as she was suiting up to go out and slay some vampires, 'Giles old boy – talk about insensitive.' He could tell from her stiff posture that she had been cut by his words. Xander distancing himself from the usual activities of the Scooby gang seemed to have hurt her more than he suspected.

"I understand, one girl thing, I remember," Giles winced again at the sad smile on Buffy's face as she turned around to face him. "It's just that Xander has been with us since I arrived here you know. I never imagined him not sticking around especially when it seems we've been dumped for that troll Snyder. It's unnatural."

"I'm.." he started to apologise before being cut of by the young girl.

"Don't," she shook her head. "If I go now I'll get some time in with Angel and still get some sleep before tomorrow."

'Such a hard life,' he thought, his annoyance at the slayer vanishing as he once again wondering why the slayers always seemed to be called so young. Even when raised by the Council and prepared it was hard, and they usually didn't survive long. Buffy had lasted longer than most and for that they had Xander to thank.

Even then, he was not surprised that the young man had decided that enough was enough and had seemingly gotten out before he was killed. While the survival rate of slayers averaged two years, an unenhanced human was far less and as deeply as he had been involved in the fight so far he truly had already bucked the odds.

It saddened him but he wasn't surprised. Oh Xander still helped with the occasional research parties but he was no longer as actively involved in the slaying and as Buffy had commented earlier seemed to spend an unnatural amount of time with the principle.

"Unnatural, strange," Giles murmured as he watched Buffy walk out of the library quietly with enough weapons to take down any number of vampiric nests. "Perhaps I was a little hasty at dismissing Buffy's concerns and intuition after all anything strange and unnatural on the Hell Mouth bodes ill."

"After all, the last time Xander spent time so much time with a teacher he was almost eaten." Standing with another sigh Giles poured himself another cup of tea and resumed his reading on the Hell Mouth. Tomorrow he would try to find out why Xander was spending so much time with the principle and what he was doing.

After all, from what he knew of the Principle it was not like him to have such a drastic change of heart. Perhaps a little bit of activity would go someway to relieving the anxiety had felt since Halloween, just a little.

Harry walked cautiously into his base of operations. Even though CSE had assured him that the attack on the location of the Hell Mouth had been viciously put down, such precautions had saved his life numerous times - particularly when he had thought himself safe and invulnerable. The attack on his mind while he was alone on the bridge of the greatest human war cruiser ever built in the middle of a Minbari/Centuari skirmish merely two weeks ago was a case in point.

He had always been well above the curve in magical and, thanks to CSE, technological ability but sometimes that was not always enough. Remaining himself the day he had appeared in a muggle twentieth century Sunnydale had proved to be a challenge that he had never expected to face at his age and certainly it was not something he had faced before in his two centuries of life. It meant that he could still be surprised and ambushed.

Harry smiled, 'life would be too boring otherwise. What's life without constantly proving yourself stronger, smarter, superior,' he thought. 'Still, it means that I am not beyond the stage where I need not be careful.'

Flaring his magic in preparation for instantaneous conjuration of offensive or defensive screens and allowing a few million nanites to permeate the air around him searching for threats, Harry studied what had two weeks ago been a dank and mouldy cavern that surrounded the Hell Mouth, a mere hole in the ground.

Now that he had claimed it, the chamber had doubled in volume and the walls were coated with a crystalline sheen. Armour that would prove almost impenetrable with the current muggle technology, behind which Harry knew, lay the most advanced computing system that the earth would likely develop for centuries maybe even millennia. After all, he had stolen and adapted the schematics from the Minbari who had borrowed some principles from the Vorlon's and the Vorlon's they had been first ones.

Weapons embankments were hidden amongst the natural formations of the cavern, and even he would have missed a few of them had he not designed the chamber. The firepower in his operations centre was enough to destroy a small town but he doubted that he would need to use even a percentage of that firepower to defend his base. So far, its greatest defence was its relative secrecy. Attacks came after the Hell Mouth not a heavily fortified military base. Still, it was better to be prepared than not.

Right in the centre of the chamber was the Hell Mouth, a demonic portal to the Hell Dimension that he and CSE had not figured out how to open yet. 'Or at least not in any controlled way' he thought sourly. 'There is not much point opening the portal in an uncontrolled way, that is a quick way to be bumped down the food chain and until CSE finishes restoring my fall capability I won't be able to prevent it.'

"Once that happens though, I would like to see whether the rumours of the old ones are as accurate as they claim." Harry chewed out to himself with a feral grin.

Where once the Hell Mouth had been a mere hole in the ground, now it was framed with the strongest alloy that CSE had been able to manufacture given her limited resources in both energy and manufacturing capability. It stood majestically in the centre of his base just waiting to be used in his plans. He wanted to be absolutely sure that nothing crept through in either direction without his knowledge and so the frame would be the last line of defence if there was a breech and as greater resources were freed up it would be continuously upgraded.

There had already been three attacks on his base since he had started to build it over the Hell Mouth two weeks ago and he expected such an event to be a common occurrence for some time. The first two attacks had been when he had been on site to boost the effectiveness of the incomplete defences but this latest he had been absent. He had figured that the defensive modules had been complete enough after the second attack to stand most assaults and he had other priorities.

It was doubtful at this stage that anything short of a heavily armed and equipped army could breach the defences as they stood and as he built up his available resources he would make the Hell Mouth inaccessible to all but his allies. As he walked up to a pair of vampires that hung limply from a wall, all that remained of the final attack, he doubted that the latest attack had been anywhere near a heavily armed battalion in strength.

"You got a SITREP for me CSE?" he asked the AI as he stepped closer to the limp vampires. The rage and the almost godlike healing and reanimation ability of the demon's that inhabited the dead bodies of vampires never ceased to amaze and fascinate him. At first he had thought he might be able to use or learn something from these creatures but after careful and extensive magical and technological study, indexed and referenced by CSE superior computing power, he had come to the conclusion that they were too flawed. Too out of control and incompatible with his core.

The demonic possessors didn't harness their madness and insanity for greatness, they _were_ madness and insanity and they corrupted everything they touched. While they had the potential to be very very powerful, that source of power was too opposed to his own to be of any use without losing himself.

Harry watched with a smile as the remaining bodies were absorbed into the crystal wall, leaving no trace that they had ever existed and relished the screams of terror from the vampiric demons that tickled his magical senses as they were ripped apart and sent back to Hell. 'No,' he thought 'not quite useless. The bodies they inhabit are a terrific source of energy when molecularly broken down and that is one resource I am very low on.'

"The latest attack consisted of eight fledglings and three masters no less than seventy years old, Harry. There were no survivors and all attempted communication was intercepted and destroyed. It seems illogical that despite the fact that the demonic denizens of this muggle town seem to lack the ability to open or use the energy being emitted from the Hell Mouth, attempts are still made to capture this place. It is apparent that there is a prestige attached to the control of the Hell Mouth."

"Further, upgrades and rebuilding of the lost data that resulted from your transition to this dimension are being impaired by lack of energy sources, from an analysis of risks and benefits I would suggest the construction of a series of small fusion generators to expand your operations."

'Yes,' he thought, agreeing with CSE analysis 'fusion generators would be ideal at this stage of rebuilding. They are easy to build and maintain and easily interfaced with the current level of technology. On the off chance of a breach, the resulting explosion and contamination would be easily contained with the alloys that we are synthesising and the energy source would be unlikely to interact adversely with the mystical energies of the Hell Mouth.'

'Harnessing the power of a localised quantum singularity, while far superior to the primitive fusion reactors, would be much harder to interface with local technology in the short term and who knows how it will react to the causality effects of the Hell Mouth. Besides' he thought with an annoyed grunt 'I lack the man power and technical expertise to maintain such a powerful energy generator. Even an AI of CSE power and capabilities is not intuitive enough to solve all my man power problems'

Harry sighed as he collapsed in a chair that appeared in front of display on the wall. After two weeks, where he had essentially been required to restart his life and rebuild the resources he had begun to take for granted from scratch and he had started approaching the time where he had regained just enough of his former resources that he needed to make a move towards his more complicated power plays.

He could not forget the epic battles that were being fought in this region of space in his time and universe, nor could he overlook the demonic threat that apparently plagued this world. From what he had seen from muggle society to date, he was just as likely to be eliminated with the rest of them and that was unacceptable.

Demons. It still amazed him, the variety of species and powers that inhabited the several neighbouring and accessible dimensions to the one he now found himself on. He often wondered what would have become of his world had they existed there? But they had not and this new universe he found himself in even had different galactic and planetary positions. Something that made him wonder if the alien threats that exited in this time where greater or lesser than the one he had already faced and triumphed over.

Regardless, he did not doubt that such threats existed. Yet, despite his frantic rebuilding and hording of resources, and determination not to be taken down with the rest of the primitive and evolutionary inferior muggle society by the threats that surrounded them, he had never been so alone and cut off from allies.

All of his searching and research into other magic users had revealed a simple fact. None existed and those that did, were little better than squibs with the way that they 'channelled' the magic of greater powers to their will. He had thought to approach these greater powers but he could not forget the almost callous way in which he was attacked by such a channeller on Halloween.

Any power that allowed his magic to be used in such a trivial manner deserved none of his respect. They were worse than muggles in his eyes and he had proven his superiority over that evolutionary inferior sub-branch of humanity a century before.

No, from what he had been able to deduce from his own research, magic use had been exterminated from this world by an alliance of demons and humans. The two warring groups who had momentarily declared a time out while they had exterminated his people, once that had happened they had resumed their bloody conflict. Madness and insanity, it seemed, had been a match where technology and cunning had not.

He didn't feel too disgruntled by that fact. After all, the possessed demonic energy acted almost like a magical core and from the fragmented references of that time, he had little sympathy for there fate. They had proven inferior where the society he had built had not when faced by its own threats.

Even so, no wizarding society meant that it was impractical for him to release the magical retrovirus that he had released on his former home world in order to quickly grasp control and shape the world in preparation for a rapid expansion onto the galactic stage. Giving every newborn a magical core without first creating the institutions to manage and cope with the sudden evolutionary change would cause more damage and problems than it would solve.

No, definitely not something he wanted to do in the short term. The stupid muggles would likely either wipe themselves out or send themselves back to the Stone Age and as funny as it would be to watch, it was not something he could afford to do until all other threats to humanity had been erased. Likewise with any plot to destroy institutions or infrastructure would be worse than useless.

Flicking through the data that CSE had managed to accumulate on the technological and cultural state of the muggle world at this time Harry grunted in frustration. No wizarding world, a few squibs, demonic creatures and a complacent muggle society that he could have destroyed at his weakest. Then there was the threat of whoever lay beyond human space and he had found few indications that any branch of the muggle society was aware of the magnitude of the threat. Pathetic.

It was something he would need to investigate sometime soon.

"CSE, go ahead with the generators. Build plenty of spare capacity; I have had enough of sitting around waiting for this weak muggle body to become what mine once was and I have a feeling that I don't have time to either. I will change this world as surely as I changed the last, magic or no magic and the muggles will heel or die." He commanded as he stalked out thinking. The first thing he needed to do was to create an image and he couldn't help but laugh at the irony at two centuries on being in a similar place as his old arch rival lord Voldemort.

It was something he had already started. A few memory charms and the headmaster of his local school had been more than willing to cover his absences from school while he occupied himself with more useful pursuits. Even Xanders closest group of friends hadn't been too suspicious when he had distanced himself from their slaying activity. His new favourite principal had allayed their most obvious concerns and his change in personality had been confused with an imbalance of hormones. It really was a sad indictment of the expertise of the warriors currently fighting their little war with the demonic plane when his expertise was confused with puberty.

Oh, they had the usual Hell Mouth paranoia but he had covered his tracks and he had not cut himself off completely. The Slayer seemed to be a key figure in the war against the demon population and would eventually prove a valuable asset in any attempt to penetrate the mysterious and politically powerful watchers council.

Even then, she was only a small player and replaceable. After all, a lesson he had learnt early in his life was that one person, no matter how powerful and cunning, could not fight a war by themselves. It required combat and supply support teams, appropriate political structures and above all it needed the backing of the population at large.

This meant that ultimately the Slayer was only a soldier, a grunt and if he were to grasp control of the fight and move it towards victory in his name for his own purposes then the slayer meant very little. Even if she were killed, another one would be called to replace her – it was a perfect system and one that seemed to encourage a high turnover in slayers.

Somehow, he had never expected such a devious plan to exist amongst the decadent muggle civilization. He approved at their deviousness and cold-bloodedness, it was an ultimate controlling mechanism but even that plan held flaws that even the most junior tactician could have pointed out.

It made him wonder who was fighting this war and why they hadn't lost a long time ago. Particularly when the primitive muggle population was fighting on more than one fronts, fronts that they were blind too. In such a situation it became more critical that all these components became even more aligned and overseen by competent, loyal and experienced personnel. It is why he had played to his title of Boy-Who-Lived and later when he founded the Order of the Lightening and had ruthlessly embedded its position in the political landscape.

When the opportunity came to restructure society to his will, he had grasped it with both hands and founded a new system that had seen wizarding society see off and demolish threats older, larger and often more powerful than they were. But he had done so from the ashes of the old system and here and now, nothing even remotely resembling it existed. He would have to move slowly and carefully to embed the changes he wanted to see, but not too quickly.

Still, it would prove embarrassing if he, as powerful as he was, were to be brought down by some two bit dictator that held the resources of several star systems. Something that was just as likely to happen as not if he was not fast enough and if it required him to reshape the muggle world then he would make sure he was at the top. 'It was only appropriate,' he thought with an evil grin. He was there evolutionary superior after all.

'The first step will be to resurrect my order,' he thought leaving the school grounds subconsciously laughing at the symbolism of placing a high school over a dimensional portal to hell. It was almost poetic. 'And then ruthlessly embedding their power into the muggle ethos, But how? There is no wizarding world, randomly kidnapping infants seems inefficient and binding muggles to his will a wasteful investment of resources.'

'In fact, loyalty of any genuine nature may well come only after I have established myself. A catch 22 of the most annoying kind.'

"Harry, I have detected target black one on the outskirts of the city graveyard," announced CSE and disrupting his thoughts on world domination. Still the presence of the channellor gave him an idea about how to proceed with the rebuilding of his order. As much as he disliked sharing power and even more so lending others his own, if he granted an elite unit access to a fraction of his core then their effectiveness on this magicless world would be greatly increased.

It was an idea for the future, though his magical core was years away from being strong enough for something like that even if he knew how to go about it. Finding out meant capturing a channellor and target black alpha was closest which meant that despite his feelings of bloodlust would go unfulfilled, for now. He needed the man alive but that still gave him plenty of opportunities to direct some very pointed and painful questions to the man

The challenge of proving his superiority over an alternate universe inhabited by primitive muggles and alien civilizations of unknown power aside, he would never forgive the channellor for involuntarily tearing him from his power base. With nothing better to do at that moment he approached the man that CSE was tracking.

Taking the most direct route to the man through the graveyard that boarded the high school, Harry continued to track the chaos mage. "CSE, would it be possible for others to channel a fraction of my power as the squibs of this word seem to do for other powers?" Even if it was an idea for the future it was an interesting question that could be considered.

"It is not an area that I have investigated or even found much information on since everyone from your home universe contained magical cores." Replied CSE from beside him, "nor is it something I recommend in the short term since your own core is the weakest it has been in over one hundred and fifty years." He nodded, it was a conclusion he had already come to.

"However it is something I will investigate further, giving others your ability to affect causality so strongly would be a major advantage." Harry did not have to be told that it would be relatively low on his AI's priority list of tasks however, it is why he wanted to capture the chaos mage that brought him here, to satisfy his curiosity, potentially spread his influence and teach him never to cross him again by talking a very bloody revenge. It was a lesson that few survived.

"Harry, I am detecting a fight in progress to your right. It is the slayer and her vampire companion. There position is being over run by a small group of Skilosh demons. Current calculations indicate that the chances of survival are negligible."

Snarling in the direction of the retreating chaos mage, Harry ran to the fight between the Skilosh demons and the slayer. As minor an asset as the slayer was, considering another would be called if she were killed, and as despicably weak he felt that her vampire companion was for a 240 year old being – he could not allow them to die yet. Even if another was called, he could not guarantee that they would be sent to Sunnydale and his control did not spread much further yet. Such influence over the slayer was critical to his plans.

Ethan Ryan, the chaos mage would have to wait.

Disillusioning himself and silencing his feet, Harry approached the fight with stealthy interest. He had often heard and read what a legendary fighter a Slayer proved to be when pushed and he had not yet seen her vampire companion go all out. With Buffy and her paramour Angel being over run by a numerically superior enemy he expected to see a fight that would both entertain him and show him the full capabilities of the two most powerful light fighters in Sunnydale.

The sound of a tombstone smashing as a Skilosh demon threw the teenage blond through it and the sight of another three Skilosh Demons bum rushing the ancient vampire masked his disappointment. This was no fight, no skirmish between humanity and its enemies; in fact it was barely a brawl. Neither side showed any sign of knowing or using small group tactics, innovative use of their surroundings or demonstrated any sign of situational awareness. In fact they had made no effort to stay close together and draw on each others strengths as the demons quickly separated then and continued taking them apart.

Weaponry not much removed from the muggle Stone Age was used by both sides and no body amour was seen between them except for the naturally tough skin of the Skilosh demons, any stock he held about the legendary status of the slayer, the main foot soldier against the darkness, was dashed. His poor view of the vampire was merely vindicated. It seemed that the slayer was little more than a child who had gained a few enhancements but had not trained them to their potential and who held little concept of the position and responsibilities she held. It was a disgraceful display.

Harry curled his lip in distaste as he watched Angel easily sidelined from the fight and the slayer firmly pinned to an undamaged crypt. He carefully noted the external signs of numerous dislocations and broken bones as she broke out of their demonic grip and continued to fight them on their own ground. Refusing to make even a tactical retreat in her berserker state.

What followed was the worst example of combat he had seen by anyone in his life, even going back to his schooling years. He watched disgustedly as Buffy barely managed to embed a war axe into the skull of one demon before being beaten to an inch of her life. The vampire was only doing better because of the demonic energies that flooded his body, even then he struggled to take out another two before the Skilosh pressed their advantage with fists and overpowered kicks.

Even when facing death, the slayer had proved useless and uninnovative in combat. It made him miss his highly trained Order even more as he watched what amounted to little more than a lethal slug fest. Neither seemed to be learning or adapting to the tactics of the enemies and by watching them he could only agree with CSE assessment of the fight and the Slayer's chances of surviving this fight. He and any of the warriors he had trained would have put the clumsy demons down in five seconds, and put them down HARD.

Still he would not see her die just yet. She may still have a place in his plans and it would prove a perfect time to enhance the image he was creating in the demon community. He had long since decided to favour the symbol of a Cerberus, lethal, powerful and multi-headed and he would not change that now, after tonight he had a feeling that his reputation would balloon enormously.

A quick flick of his wrist and created an illusion of a giant Cerberus in the sky above the graveyard and the air surrounding the Skilosh demons flooded with CSE's attack drones. They would, he knew, pass through what ever passed for skin or armour of the demons bodies and dismantle them – painfully, all the while transmitting the latest physiological data and capability information from their decaying bodies.

"The holder!!" the demons shouted in horror as they attempted to flee but it was far too late as the three heads of the Cerberus roared loudly into the sky and it's tail flickered ominously a sure sign that his nanites had already invaded what passed for a brain stem within the demons bodies.

All but one of the Skilosh demons would be dead before they reached the boundaries of the graveyard and the information collected by CSE drones would add to his growing database of the different demonic species he would be facing when he stepped out of the shadows and launch a full scale counter strike into the different demonic dimensions. Capturing their resources for his own purposes. Fighting a war against alien threats while there remained a demonic one at home was a quick way to extinction.

The remaining demon would flee and spread the news of the 'Holder of the Hell Mouth' to his demonic buddies, along with word of his stealthy and vicious kills. His reputation would continue to grow and he hoped, attract greater challenges to the area. Better that his foes came to him and fought him on his ground rather than there's. There would be time for that later.

"CSE, locate target black alpha?" Harry asked as he allowed his disillusions and stealth spells to drop causing him to appear next to the mangled bodies of the slayer and her vampiric companion. The fight had not been nearly as entertaining as he had hoped but he hoped that he would still be able to catch up to the chaos mage.

"Target has moved into the central residential district." In vein. 'There is always next time,' he thought grimly as he grabbed hold of the injured and unconscious bodies of the slayer and her companion and apperated to a small flat he had acquired from a newly deceased homeowner that had not known not to invite in salesmen after dark. 'I'm saving it up and when I catch up to you there will just be more interest.'

Dumping the vampire in the corner, Harry began to splint and bandage Buffy's more serious wounds. Her slayer healing would take care of the worst of her injuries by morning and the smallest amount of first aid would ensure she healed without complications. His actions would also help allay any suspicions the slayer or her watcher may have continued to have. "Besides" he chuckled "a crippled slayer wouldn't be much good to anyone least of all to me."

* * *

The Sunnydale morgue had seen more action than most. The dead had poured in from animal attacks, home invasions and even open gang warfare. For such a small population, Sunnydale had an alarmingly high mortality rate.

It was this statistical blip that encouraged a self imposed curfew on the citizens of Sunnydale and discouraged tourists. So it was unusual that Phillip Henry had not only bucked this trend by visiting but by visiting after dark. It had also led to his death.

Still, it would surprise no one that really knew what was behind the statistics when Phillip Henry casually slid the sheet covering his naked body and sat up, eyes glinting in the sterile light and a strange tattoo glowing darkly against his pale skin.

* * *

CSE danced with amusement among the different technological servers that provided the backbone for all the increasingly integrated information systems that the muggle society had become reliant on. The amount of information that was archived, indexed and referenced was inefficiently stored and poorly encrypted.

It amused her, being able to access so much of the industrial and governmental infrastructure of what this primitive society called the developed world. She laughingly broke the mere 256 bit encryptions that held the military and parliamentary corruption secrets of some of the oldest governments that muggle society had to offer. Only the systems that were carefully and securely disconnected from the main backbones were safe from her scrutiny – for now.

Computing had advanced enormously with the capture of a Centauri war cruiser and as her host had manipulated conflicts throughout known space and led the wizarding world to heady heights of power, it had advanced even further. That was in another universe but all the computing knowledge and advances were still with her and the capacity she once had, though diminished was being rebuilt.

Such a primitive and poorly defended system that existed in this universe, in this time was pathetically easy to break and manipulate. Muggles held such faith in technology, it was almost as strong as wizards had once held for magic. Her host had quickly broken them of their foolish pride.

Machine she may be and although she may not be able to understand emotions as organics could. She had spent an eternity, as she measured time, integrated within her host and so could emulate emotions most familiar to her and her host. Amusement at the inferiority of enemies was a common emotion.

Quickly mapping out what she needed and at times reprogramming machine code to create access points, CSE created an entire history for a Harry Alexander Potter. Bank accounts were filled, passports and drivers licences were ordered and some stocks were bought based on what CSE knew of Harry's plans.

Property changed hands and files were created detailing a past life and education. Birth and death certificates were created for a family that didn't exist before CSE had created them. Paperwork was printed in triplicate and labelled for storage, no one would be able to tell that Harry Potter was not born and raised on US soil. It was doubtful that any query would ever be raised about his newly created family history.

It was just the first step to shape this universe as he had the last and he would let no-one stand in his way, just as he had in the last.


	3. Consequences of action

**Title:** Chaos on the Hellmouth  
**Author name:** Kunglou

**Author email:** AU  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** Harry Potter had fielded and led vast armies, manipulated intergalactic wars and raised mankind to the heights of first ones but he had not actually existed until a chaos mage had sabotaged a Halloween on the hell mouth.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own either BTVS or Harry Potter and claim no rights to the copyrighted material. I am making no money off this story.

**Author notes: AU, OC, HP: A matter or Perception/BtVS/Bab5**

**If you are unfamiliar with the perception series I really recommend that you read the fist two pieces for this piece to make sense. Keep in mind that Xander was possessed, his memories merged with the more dominant personality of Harry's.**

Ch3 – Consequences of action

Buffy dreamed

Not since she had first arrived at Sunnydale had her dreams been filled with such vivid and scattered images of bloodshed, death and destruction. The sounds and smell's she was experiencing fully immersed her into the dream and filled her with a deep feeling of foreboding.

Her dreams when she had first arrived in Sunnydale had been about the master, and her prophesised death. It had led her to some very dark days and she dreaded finding out what these dreams would lead to. They were far darker than those of the master had been.

In her dreams, she stood in an amazingly beautiful city of crystal, seemingly dug from a single rock. The beauty from the lush gardens and water features that scattered the city only deepened the horrific dichotomy of what she was witnessing. She listened helplessly to screams of terror, pain and pleas of mercy as darkly clad figures swept through the city killing its citizens mercilessly. Only the dead remained where the death squads passed, no exceptions to age, sex or station seemed to be made.

Large bony protrusions from the victim's skulls told her that the inhabitants of the city were not human but then, even with what she had seen and done in her role as a vampire slayer and killer of all things demonic, she could not condone such…slaughter. Not when the people seemed so non-violent, their city so beautiful.

She shivered as a young female stood before her in fear and hope. Her long black hair glistened in the sun and her eyes bore into Buffy's own, almost as if she could see her. Despite it only being a dream. And then the light was extinguished from the little girl's eyes, the hope passing with her executioners as they cleared the streets of the living.

Buffy felt her heart wrench and felt an enormous affinity for the girl, swallowed by events far outside her control, helpless to a destiny that she did not choose. Her soul filled with emotional turmoil even as she was thrust into another scattered sound bite of death and destruction in a bewildering display of colours and symbols. In typical supernatural fashion, most of the artefacts she saw where sculptured gold.

Her stomach churned sickeningly as she stalked a bloody battlefield. Fighting seemed to have recently died out leaving the dead haphazardly piled into stacks as far as she could see into the horizon with little care or thought paid to the gruesome mutilation of bodies that often accompanied viscous closely fought skirmishes. Swords and axes mixed with more modern weaponry and strangely shaped body armour, the dead were both human and demonic in appearance. She choked on the smell of blood and tried to empty her stomach as she tried to comprehend what she was being shown. Death on such a large scale seemed inexplicable to her young mind.

Above her flashes of light lit up the sky, multicoloured bursts that out shone the two suns that lit the violet sky and then she was floating in space, weightless. She bore silent witness to a battle that only belonged in science fiction. The stars illuminated the blacked hulls of two enormous fleets of spacecraft as they spun and danced and spat multicoloured beam's at each other, constantly seeking the destruction of the other. Below them the world they seemed keen on defending burned.

Of all the images that flooded her senses and immersed her into frightening and often heart wrenching places, a large image of a multi-headed dog dominated, burning her eyes with its green intensity. When she could no longer ignore the pain or the increasingly sickening feeling that seemed to work it's way from her stomach into the back of her throat she wretched herself out of the slayer dream with a desolate urgency and threw up messily to the side. She may be a slayer but she was also a teenage girl that was not use to the harsh realities or savage violence of war.

Her conflicts with the vampires and demons of her life had been kept relatively clean, emotionally distinct and relatively restricted to assorted duels. Vampires and demons could be clearly differentiated from humans by action and appearance and when slain they disappeared; leaving little trace they had ever existed. When she felt out of her depth, her watcher was always there with both information and advice. Centuries of information seemed to give him and the watchers council moral authority in her mind.

That combined with the slayer essence which made her good at her job seemed to absolve her of any guilt at the snuffing out of life, demonic and undead as it were. Such an immersive vision of emotional ambiguity unsettled her greatly. She was not prepared for it.

Gagging slightly on the acidic taste at the back of her throat she rolled slightly on the barely cushioned surface she found herself on. 'What,' she thought distractedly, trying to form some coherent thoughts to distract her from her slayer dreams, 'what happened.'

"Angel," she called weakly over the pounding of her head and aching of her bones and muscles. She felt like she had bruises on her bruises. What happened and where was she? A fog seemed to cloud her thoughts, making it almost impossible to even form a lucid sentence much less focus on the slayer dream.

"Well. That was definitely not the reaction that I was hoping for after last night. I would have to class that as not of the good." A deep voice announced somewhere from above her, forcing her to squint in the glaring light of midmorning. 'I've sooo got a concussion,' she thought distractedly over her cloudy thoughts as she tried to place the voice. As unpleasant as the feeling was she had experienced concussions before and knew what to expect. Not that it helped much during a concussion.

"Xander?" she asked questioningly. 'A couch, she was on a couch,' she thought 'now I just have to figure out how I got here and what the hell is Xander doing here?"

"I mean, the first time you stay the night and you don't remember?" Buffy could barely concentrate her thoughts on the here and now over her concussion and the flashes off her slayer dreams to hear or even comprehend Xander's amused smirk or sarcastically delivered innuendo.

"What, why am I here?" Buffy murmured as she tried to push herself of the couch before collapsing back into the cushion with a small yelp as threads of pain burned down her still healing arms.

"Here Buff," Xander murmured with a disappointed sigh "swallow these pills. It will help with pain and help you sleep. I've already modified the dose for your enhanced metabolism."

Buffy nodded in confusion but still trustingly took the pills from Xander as he helped her swallow them. Even had she remembered her recent suspicions about Xanders behaviour, she was simply in no condition to refuse him. Still, the pills acted as promised and she collapsed back into a deep and mercifully dreamless sleep. Free from more hauntingly disturbing slayer dreams.

When she reawoke, her thoughts where far clearer and the smell of bacon hit her nose and seemed to drive a painful spike of hunger through her stomach. Her enhanced slayer healing had healed her concussion but she barely remembered her last moments of consciousness and the slayer dreams no longer haunted her immediate memory. Buffy had instinctually suppressed those until after she came to grips with the consequences of the events of the previous night and her near death.

The patrol, subsequent ambush by six ugly demons of some unknowable kind and the cruel pain of broken bones dominated her thoughts as she awkwardly sat up from her position on a tattered and threadbare green double seater. Buffy could clearly remember the deep cold that invaded her body as she lay slumped on the gravely ground of the graveyard, waiting for the death she knew was inevitable. Only with the master had she been so thoroughly defeated and her slayer powers so easily stripped away.

Even then, the master had been insanely powerful and really old. He was also a foe she had faced alone. As far as she could remember, there was nothing special or especially powerful about the demons from last night, and she had been patrolling with Angel. There should have been little chance of encountering something that could not be dealt with as easily as she had dealt with the other denizens of the Sunnydale nightlife.

It both scared and confused her when she was easily overwhelmed and separated from Angel, her slayer gifts had barely helped at all. They had taken her down as easily as she could have a normal human. All the importance that she had placed on her Slayer strength and speed was just torn asunder. She could not imagine how she had survived that her latest encounter with the denizens of the Hellmouth and her close shave with death scared her more than she would like to admit and she found herself desperately trying not to panic.

She had faced death twice in less than a year and that brought the life expectancy of a slayer crashing home to her with devastating effectiveness. Statistically she should already be dead. Buffy shivered as the coldness of last night seeped further into her bones and she couldn't help but wonder how Angel was. If she survived, had he?

Only the professionally bandaged splints, dressed wounds and smell of bacon prevented her from hysterically leaping from the couch, diving through the open window and charging back to the sanctuary of either her home or the school library. She needed answers and she couldn't help but worry about the outcome of the fight or how she had come to rest on this couch.

The sunlight that shone from the open windows clearly told her that her rescuer was not Angel and that only increased her worry. Where was her Vampiric boyfriend? If she was here and patched up where was he? Had he even survived the fight that she almost had not?

Whoever had rescued her would not have gone to the effort of patching her up if they were just going to kill her either so she felt momentarily safe staying where she was. 'Besides,' she thought shivering uncontrollably 'I am in even less of a position to defend myself than I was last night and they defeated my so easily.'

While the splints and bandages restricted her movents, they did not stop her from examining her surroundings with increased scrutiny. The room she found herself in was scarcely furnished and the walls, though freshly painted, lacked any sort of adornments that would have made the room homey. It reminded her of her house before she had finished unpacking, but she did not know anyone who had just moved to Sunnydale. At least no-one that would have been in a position to stumble across her and treat her as professionally as she apparently had been while affording a place like this.

She doubted that the normal inhabitants of Sunnydale had been taking an evening stroll through the local graveyard either.

Buffy suddenly paled as she glanced out of the window again. It was easily midafternoon and she had not been home since last night or even called. 'Her mother would be soooo panicking right now,' she thought with a hysterical edge to her thoughts. 'Forget mum,' she thought, her panic increasing, 'principle Snyder would almost certainly expel her for skipping school and that was just as bad.'

Her mom would really freak if she was expelled again.

"Ahhhh Buffy, you're up. I hope your hungry, I cooked a lot. That Slayer healing needs to be fed." Buffy whipped her head from the open window in disbelief. Out of everyone she had thought might have found her, patched her up, Xander was the last on her list. Sure he occasionally helped out with her slaying but he didn't have the experience of Giles, the Vampiric enhancements of Angel or the dabbling magic use Willow had.

Even then he had been hanging around with her group less and less. What the hell was going on? And where had he learnt and gained such skill at first aid. In fact, she cut of that thought viscously. What ever he had, he had saved her life again and she was grateful and it wasn't like she could boast about any super slayer skills after last night she thought sullenly.

Buffy couldn't help but stare at Xander from where she huddled in his couch with uncertainty. He stood tall, both relaxed and confident. It was not a look she usually associated with the teen. He was usually slumped, but his amused smirk she was all too familiar with and it did not fill her with confidence for her safety.

"Oh and don't worry, your mum knows you spent the night and Principle Snyder has given you the day off."

Buffy's self pity at her near death, uncertainty of Xander's intentions and increasing paranoid study of her teenage friend came to a screaming halt when she heard Xander tell her that her mom knew about her spending the night and she paled further. 'Her mom knew!' She so did not want to think about that or the conclusions her mum might have come to. At least she was in no danger of getting expelled.

As long as she wasn't in danger of being expelled, she could handle her mother. She hoped. 'Show no weakness, show no weakness,' she mentally chanted glancing at Xander unsure which was worse - A teenage boy or a supernatural possession.

Shaking herself slightly she stood and walked stiffly towards the breakfast that Xander had promised her, following the smell of cooked bacon. She really was hungry and she intended to eat her fill and grill Xander for some answers. The smell of bacon and that amused smirk brought too many wiggy memories of his hyena possession. Something she definitely did not want to deal with right now.

What the hell was she doing here? Not that she was complaining much since the alternative was being dead but she was reminded of her previous suspicions of her best friends change in attitude since Halloween. Saving her life aside she doubted it was a good thing.

Change on the Hell Mouth rarely was.

Fingering her bandages she waited until Xander dug in before she joined him. It was good she had to admit and she wondered where his parents were or if cooked the meal himself. Her Hell mouth paranoia was running rampant and the near death experience was just starting to overwhelm her, she needed answers now. She COULD NOT afford to breakdown right now.

"Alright Xander spill," she announced over her second serve of bacon and eggs. "What the hell happened? Why am I here, where is here? And where is Angel?"

Buffy almost missed the flash of annoyance that briefly crossed Xander's face from across the table before it was masked by an eerily serious expression. His green eyes flashed as he dished himself some extra sausages.

'Green? I thought his eyes were brown.' She shook her head as residual images from her slayer dreams tried to protrude into her thoughts.

"You almost died Buffy, ambushed by six Skilosh demons. You wake up in a strange place and the first question you ask is about you undead companion?"

Buffy almost shied from the distaste and disappointment that filled his voice before she rallied and glared at him. She was the slayer, and she didn't feel like being judged by anyone, not even a close friend that had been helping her out on the Hell mouth for a year and a half.

She might be questioning the value and purpose of being a slayer at the moment but he didn't need to know that and she was sure that a quick chat with Giles would clear up any uncertainty she had. Right now she wanted answers.

"Xander!"

"Overbite was fine when I dropped him in his lair," Xander quipped around some baked potato. The goofy grin that she was used to back in full force and she had to wonder what had just happened. In fact, she wondered what had been happening with Xander for weeks. "Bit banged up but you where my priority Buff, I cannot tell you how close to dying you were."

Buffy shivered again, despite the direct sunlight warming the room and the hot food. The chill of death seemed to settle in her still healing wounds. Hearing Xander talk about her injuries, even as broadly as he had done terrified her. She had no interest in learning how badly she had really been injured in detail. The splints and bindings where enough to paint her a broad enough picture.

"Once I had dragged you back here, I patched you up and waited for you slayer healing to do its thing."

Buffy stared at his pleased grin and glanced around the dinning room even as she fingered the bandages curiously. She could not understand how he was being so flippant about her near death or Angel's injuries. Sure she would have had to be blind to have noticed his crush but his callous treatment of Angel seemed plain vindictive and it did not reassure her one bit.

He still had not explained what he was even doing at one of Sunnydale's graveyards at that hour or even how he managed to get them both back to safety. Xander should have known better and she couldn't think of any reason other than patrolling that would have brought him out there and as injured as they were carting them back to his place would not have been easy.

"Where is here exactly Xander?" she asked pushing her plate away after having finished her third helping and eyeing the doorway and open window just in case she needed a quick exit.

If Xander noticed he didn't show it, instead he just smiled widely at her, before commenting "this is where I live Buffy. I moved out of my parents place a couple of weeks ago. Where else would I have brought you, the hospital was too far and your mum would have been worried if I had have dragged your bleeding and broken body to her doorstep."

"You're lucky I was passing through, those Skilosh demons left you for dead."

Buffy latched onto his opening to question him further on his apparent first aid, demonic classification knowledge, and his adventures into the Sunnydale graveyard, she hadn't even recognised those demons, when she felt a wave of dizziness flood over her.

"You're still healing Buffy; I'll answer any question you want tomorrow. Back to the couch with you."

She nodded as he led her back to the couch, struggling with her own body to stay awake. He had not really explained what he had been up to or even what had happened to the demons that had ambushed her and Angel. But he had saved her life again and she was feeling particularly weak and vulnerable at the moment and so she had no choice but to trust him for the moment.

She vowed that she would have answers next time she woke up though and if he really was not possessed then maybe she would have to pay a little more attention to him. They had all been marginalising him over the previous couple of weeks and she hated the thought of him drifting out of her life completely even if she had Angel.

As sleep reclaimed her she missed the amused and protective expression that graced Xander's face. Somehow, if she had seen his lopsided grin she would have known that Xander was still there somewhere despite his changing behaviour.

* * *

"So explain again why we are looking for dweeb boy?" Cordelia snarled at the red head beside her as they stalked the streets of Sunnydale. It had been a freaky couple of days for Cordelia and she could just see it leading to a major loss of social status.

'That will teach me to extend a helping hand to the socially inept,' she thought grumpily. It had all started when she had invited Buffy Summers to a frat party and it had spiralled out of control into a world of fashionless vampires, human sacrifices and gross demon thingies. Since then her status had been going into freefall and she had found herself increasingly hanging with the loser brigade.

"Because Buffy and Xander missed school today and…" 'God,' thought Cordelia 'whine much.'

So Buffy and Xander skipped, it wasn't a big deal. The whole school knew about Xander's hopeless crush on Buffy. Maybe he had finally managed to fill the majorly massive chip on the blonds shoulder. 'I mean what is the girls deal,' she thought to herself, 'She is like wonder woman with superpowers.'

"And Giles is acting all non-watchery and there is a possessing demon on the losses and…"

Cordelia shuddered and wondered again why she had agreed to accompany Willow. Oh that's right; there is a maths test coming up that she had to pass.

"Excuse me, motor mouth. I think this is it." Xander and Buffy might be able to put up with the Willow babble as they called it but it was really pissing her off.

The house really did suit the social reject she thought distastefully. While she hadn't expected anything nearly close to her own standards of high society, she at least expected the house to be clean enough to fit in with the neighbourhood. If it had been anyone else she would have thought the house abandoned.

The lawns and gardens where overgrown and spindly from lack of pruning, the house needed painting – badly, and some reglazing work on the windows would not have gone astray. It was not something she usually thought of though, she had servants for that at her place and the work was usually handed before she even noticed it needed doing.

Cordelia followed Willow up a cobbled path bordered by overgrown lawn to a weather beaten door that was desperate need of replacing. 'What a dump,' she thought as Willow knocked. 'No wonder dweeb boy has problems. Any one would living here. Seedy much.'

"Y..Yes," Cordelia was nearly staggered by the smell of stale wine and acrid cigarette smoke mixed with old beer that drifted through the open door. The elderly woman, whom she could only guess was Xanders mother, looked like she hadn't been sober in a long time as she slurred out a greeting.

'God,' she thought in disgust, 'how could anyone live like that. That's just disgusting.'

"Good afternoon Mrs Harris, we where wondering if Xander was here." The woman's unfocused eyes studied them from the door and Cordelia was very surprised that Willow seemed to be expecting such behaviour. This was unexpected. She didn't know what she expected from Xander's home life but this was not it.

She almost felt sorry for all the insults and slurs now. Almost.

And Willow knew about it? Knew that he lived in such a pigsty, 'no,' she thought, 'pigs were cleaner.'

A couple of thumps from further into the house caused the woman at the door to pale slightly as she gestured for them to go away. "You should," she started but was cut of by an angry roar as the sound of a bottle smashing filled the still air.

"If yer here about Xander," the voice roared out in drunken fury "you tell him to stay out of my way until 'is balls have dropped and he can face me like a man."

Another bottle smashed, this time spraying Willow and herself with glassy shards and foamy beer from through the doorway. 'His aim is getting better,' thought Cordelia idly from the door step.

She was not used to being used as target practice with half empty bear bottles, or anything else for that matter. Such lowly behaviour shocked her and she had never expected herself to be a target.

By now Willow was almost as pale as Xander's mother. "Kicked his pansy ass out weeks ago, and he won't be commin back if he knows what's good for him. God damn pansy ass."

Cordelia could only guess that the ranting drunk was Xander's father and now she really did feel sorry for him. Not that she would ever tell him that, her social standing wouldn't allow it and hanging out with the loser brigade was already straining her credibility. But perhaps she could start being a little nicer as her social standing would allow. Keep her quips and rumour mongering to a minimum.

She had heard that people occasionally lost themselves in drink in Sunnydale, and she occasionally wondered whether he parents cared for her. It was a stage every teenager went through but this…. Neither she nor Willow put up a struggle when Xander's mum bundled them from the door step and shut the door firmly in their face. From Willow's expression this was far worse than normal and unexpected.

'What was going on?'

"Okay nerd girl," she snapped, quickly regaining her composure. "What the hell was that?"

"That was… That was Xander's parents," Willow stuttered despondently, even paler than usual. "I knew they were bad and had a drinking problem but that was…"

Cordelia didn't push the red head; she already looked like she was going to cry. But what she didn't understand was why Willow hadn't known. She had heard that they had known each other since kindergarten and had been inseparable since then. So what had happened and did they do now.

With a possessing demon loose she did not fancy Slayer girl missing in action. Thinking back over the last two weeks, Xander had been looking pretty good for a homeless person. His fashion sense had improved and he seemed to be working up the social ladder within the school. In fact, he seemed to be doing better now that he had been kicked out of home than he had been while living there.

Having just visited the place could she just say, 'ewwww, no wonder.' Besides Buffy's mum was under the impression that her daughter was over at his place, so obviously he had shacked up somewhere.

"Hmmph, I am sure they'll show up Willow. Now come on, we have a math test tomorrow." Willow just nodded weakly and followed the darker haired girl. Besides, there wasn't much more they could do while Giles was self –destructing himself.

Was the loser brigade finally falling apart she wondered in amazement. She never thought she would see the day although she relished the rumors that would abound as a result.

* * *

Harry glided through the overlapping and geometrically asymmetrical wards which covered his new home in Sunnydale. The constantly moving passive defences were almost undetectable and more than sufficient to defeat even the most determined enemies that may threaten his decoy base of operations.

At least, they were according to his situational analysis of the demonic dangers of the local hell mouth. That analysis was based on his spotty knowledge of the universe he had found himself in and his to date limited surveillance capability however so it did not fill him with assurances of their invulnerability. Which was why he had layered more active defences into the security screen that defended his new home in Sunnydale.

If the wards were to be breached then he knew that the active defences would come online, and unless the enemy held vastly superior firepower than he had seen, or heard of so far, then he would have an eternity to leap back and clean up anything that was left. Only his main base was more heavily fortified and no site that he had found on earth compared to his security.

He was still looking and searching the sometimes obscure and disconnected networks that earth's governments liked to use and he would not be completely certain until CSE regained her full capabilities back, but for now he was satisfied.

Even then, he was paranoid enough to assume that his defences could be breached at any time with limited warning. After all, overconfidence was what had allowed him to be attacked and stranded him here, on this primitive backwater, devoid of any familiar allies or threats, ripped from his power base and forced to rebuild all that he had taken for granted.

Harry snarled in impotent rage, there wasn't much he could do about it now but plan his revenge and rebuild all he had lost.

'But it isn't the defences of my primary and secondary bases that has me worried,' he thought darkly to himself as he watched the sun slowly disappear from the skyline of Sunnydale as night set in. Behind him his public residence and temporary med station, he didn't even want to think about the recovering slayer on his couch. She lay behind his defensive screens unconscious and more protected than she ever had been.

No, it had been his reaction time since he had arrived that really worried him. The feeling of slipping control and weakness, he felt weak, defeated. It wasn't a feeling he liked and the blood thirsty urge to kill and conquer filled him and fought the iron control he held over his actions as he raced to rebuild his power base.

"CSE, how sure are you that the memories of Alexander Harris that I integrated were free of foreign influence." Those memories were the only source he could think of that held any chance of influencing his action. He needed to understand what was happening before he could deal with it in his usual ruthlessly efficient way and move on.

Harry ignored the blond next to him, focussed instead on his whitened knuckles as he twisted the metal picket fence that boarded his knew home in irritation. "With the loss of so much of my computing power and the analytical synergies I obtained from rebuilding your previous biological systems over the course of centuries I can only confirm with 4 nines of certainty."

'99.99 percent,' Harry sighed as he let the feel of his defensive wards wash over him, both relaxing him and easing his tension. 'Normally I would have been satisfied with that. I have taken risks with and beaten far worse odds. In fact, even with the ability of my magical core to manipulate causality, four nines should have been safe enough and integrating foreign memories and experiences have not affected me to this extent in the past.'

'So what is different this time,' he muttered in frustration. 'Something is wrong and when magic is involved nine nines of certainty is not enough surety. My magical core alters causality in ways that statistically should not happen once in the lifetime of the universe every day. So predicting how my magic would have reacted with the chaotic magical convergences of the Hell Mouth and the strange signature that attacked me that night with only four nines of certainty is very short odds.'

Over the previous weeks and particularly since last night he had found it far too easy, disturbingly easy in fact, to slip into and stay in the goofy and simperingly naïve persona in the presence of the wounded blond slayer. So much so that it was eroding the control he held over his thoughts and emotions and that was something he always held as tightly as possible. It was what had allowed him to reach the height he had and he was extremely proud of that.

Integrating what chronologically amounted to barely less than ten percent of his total memories and experiences should not have that much affect on his actions and motivations to the degree that they had.

He had integrated much more in the past without experiencing any difficulties. When compared to his relative age, when taking into account the amount of foreign memories he had absorbed over the years added to his own unique memories and experiences, what he had taken from the muggle teenagers body amounted to a mere three percent.

With CSE assurances that no hidden surprises lay in the memories he had felt confident that such an insignificant amount of common memories would have had little effect on his drive, ruthlessness and vicious cunning that he prided himself on.

It was what had allowed him to constantly prove himself superior in the constant fights and conflicts where everyone saw him as the underdog, it allowed him to be underestimated. It had allowed him to train and forge himself into a weapon. Muggles, alien races, he had fought them all and triumphed. Raising wizards to heights never imagined. Harry would never have imagined that the consequences of fully assimilating a mere muggles memories would be to undermine all that he had achieved.

The muggle boy had not had an easy childhood, something they both shared, but Alexander Harris had not experienced the centuries of betrayal, warfare and shear cunning of humanity that had shaped him into the war leader and victorious ruler he was today, or had been. His little war with vampires aside, he had not been attacked again and again by those far more powerful than he without the aid of trusted allies. His capacity to care, to trust and to optimistically see the goodness in humanity had not yet been stripped from him and that is where the problem lay.

When Harry had adsorbed those memories on his arrival, he suddenly remembered what it felt like to care and trust and not be betrayed by friends. Harry could not remember ever feeling that in his long life and he felt his edge and focus dull by having experienced such a thing through Alaxander Harris. 'Surrounded by enemies as I am I cannot afford this now,' he raged. At least CSE had fixed the hormone imbalances that had wrecked havoc on the boy's body.

Since his youth it had just been him and CSE and he had been content with that. As a symbiotic entity, he felt he could trust CSE with his life and sanity, in fact he had, and his faith had always been rewards as his faith in humanity had not. CSE personality reflected his own and their goals mirrored each others. If someone wanted to weaken his grip on wizarding society, crack open his resolve with uncertainty and test his strength with unanswered questions then they could not have done a better job.

Such weakness and blunting of his ruthlessness would have meant death for him and the rest of humanity had he let it take root in his universe and he felt the need to stamp on it firmly in this one least it do the same in the face of unknown enemies. Somehow, he felt the weakness and couldn't purge it without far more time than he had now, for good or ill it was now a part of him and he would use it, once he figured out how and who had done this too him. He was positive that he was here more by design than by accident. He had too many enemies for it not to have been.

It seemed too convenient that he was here, now, ripped from his own universe at the pinnacle of his power by an attack that shredded his mental shields as if there weren't even there. It was an attack that exiled him into the body of a muggle boy in the midst of yet another magical attack, leaving him little choice but to assimilate the knowledge of the boy he had possessed in order to survive. Forcing him to integrate memories and experiences that would introduce uncertainty and questions to slowly undermine his resolve and ruthless pursuit of power slowly and unnoticed until it was far too late.

Oh he noticed the changes now, but it was far too late to do anything about it and he was sure that was the intention of his attacker or attackers. CSE would never have picked it up, in fact only his familiarity with his own mind enabled him to see it so early. Left unchecked it would have lead to a slow decline, an eventual stagnation of his power. He would never allow such a thing, better to be dead.

The temptation to depopulate Sunndale, removing all trace and opportunity for the weakness of trust and caring that he had been burdened with to take further hold on his mind warred with the naïveté that had been introduced into his mind. Not even his past experiences eliminated it completely, his extensive knowledge of genetics and psychology wouldn't allow it.

Intellectually he knew of the genetic differences between muggles and wizards and how the neurophysiological differences impacted upon a people's moral compass. It was exactly that which created a sliver of doubt about translating his harshly learnt lessons directly to muggle society.

"Doubt enough that allowed Alexander Harris's naivety to taint his thoughts,' he growled in disgust." At least his ruthlessness and determination to succeed seemed to be intact though he suspected that was not the intention.

Someone knew exactly how and when to attack him to ensure he was at his most vulnerable, or at least as vulnerable as he ever allowed himself to be. And the fact that the attack was magically focused and executed narrowed the field of attackers if not the source of his attack.

Who? Who held the power and ability to attack him?

Was it those pathetic humanists, who believed that peace and diplomacy could protect their mighty empire and ensure their safety from alien races that constantly tried to fold them into lowly protectorates – forever destroying their potential for greatness?

No, they lacked the training and resources to execute such an attack and without serious backing from an alien nation they would not have even been able to enter the same sector of space. Still, it was not something he could discount. He could still remember the last time he had cornered a Vorlon. His last words echoed even now.

'_The pattern is eternal'_

'_Temporal, and spatial distortions only compliment'_

'_The Circle remains intact'_

He had wasted almost a decade trying to decipher _that_ riddle to no effect and the Vorlon's were too occupied with their war with the shadows to take too much notice of the younger races. So he had allowed it to slip on his list of priorities. Perhaps that had been a mistake.

Was it a rogue member from his order?

They certainly had the training and the resources but he was too paranoid not to constantly ensure their loyalty and commitment to the wizarding society he had created, his order and his position and safety. Any hint of conflict between the three and he would have addressed the problem permanently.

One of the houses then?

Maybe, he had found no evidence of any plot and the war with the Minbari and subsequent scramble for resources and technology had certainly seemed to occupy both the older and younger houses and their coalitions. But as his empire expanded it had been increasingly difficult to keep the complete control over information flows as he had once done. The system he had instituted, and once though a perfect solution to stagnation had started to develop flaws. Ones that after centuries of struggle now seemed embedded into the society he had created.

'At least that was something he could address now he was forced to start again,' he thought with a wry grin.

"Institute a complete diagnostic of integrated memories and events leading up to the attack. Full priority. Focus on the attack and transition." He commanded the symbiotic AI. Perhaps CSE would pick up something she had missed last time she had scanned his memories and associated synaptic patterns. She had had three weeks to better integrate with his new body and restore some of her previous spare capacity which gave her a boost in functionality.

While who and why wasn't as important as what. He had no doubt that who ever had banished him here thought that this would have destroyed him. They seriously underestimated his drive and ambition. He would come out of this stronger than before, weakness or not and make them pay dearly for there mistake. Still, discovering who would tell him how thorough his attacker was likely to be.

"Harry, I have found some irregularities within your mind that were either not there previously or managed to evade the parameters of my initial scan. The initial attack did not bypass your mental shielding, it originated from behind them. That could only have happened if your attacker had planted his attack before your walls were erected.

Since your latest rebuild was 89 years ago, this limits the potential pool of attackers to someone who had frequent access to you person in order to reinforce his attack until the time to implement his trap.

The muggles memories that the green beta magical signature attempted to overwrite onto your personality matrix on Halloween were flooded with unexpectantly strong emotional attachment – almost primal in essence and depth. Most of your previous memory adsorptions were from wizards skilled in the art of Occlumency and far easier to assimilate and bend to an existing personality framework with a strong will, without any sacrifice to your character.

Only someone who was intimately familiar with your modi operandi and potential flaws in reasoning due to limited information, who was regularly in your presence over the last 89 years could have successfully orchestrated this attack. "

Only, someone that close to you could have expected you to make that error in judgement and foreseen the results of his attack."

Harry roared in a bloody rage at the AI's conclusion, he knew that CSE was right. He had slowly been coming to the same conclusion himself and as much as he was always expecting betrayal and ruthless treachery amongst his ranks it always cut him deeply when it occurred.

"NOOO!!!" he roared, ripping the mangled picket fence from the ground and tearing it into splinters. "No."

It was always infinitely worse when it was one of his Order. He had made every single member who they where, raised them above the Byzantinian games of the houses and gave them a role in guiding all of humanity. The power at their fingertips was unimaginable and the pain of betrayal was never made easier, when it was one of his Order it stoped being a game and became personal.

Never though. Never had he expected it to have been one of the older more vetted members. Had he been losing control for so long?

"CSE, find me a demon to kill. Make it a challenge." Only questions and a deep sense of loss of control remained. It fuelled his anger, his maddening rage and he let the firm grip on his blood thirsty ruthlessness slip. He needed to kill, to dominate and ruthlessly eliminate an enemy that was stronger than himself, more experienced, older to prove that he still held control, that he was still a big fish in a bigger pond.

He had played around for too long. Answers would come. Yes, answers would come and nothing would stop him.

"I have found a demonic entity that matches your parameters Harry. Be careful, I am feeding you technical information now."

'A possessing demon,' he thought with a feral grin. 'Perfect,'

Even as he followed the virtual map that overlayed his vision he mentally went through the information CSE was providing on the Etruscan possessing demon named Eyghon. Old powerful and when invited into his mind it would prove a mighty opponent and a hard challenge. He would prove that his mind was his own and that he still held control over it. A victory would go far in restoring his lost confidence.

"The demon is currently in possession of a Phillip Henry who according to police reports vanished from the city morgue some time last night."

Harry's feral grin widened as he drew closer to the demon possessed corpse.

"Even with a current watcher stationed at the School library, information is often missing, wrong, or conflicting on the capabilities of various demonic threats. This demon is among them."

Catching sight of Phillip Henry's stumbling corpse Harry broke into a run, backhanding the demon into a darkened alley, blood thirsty, revenge driven rage or not, he did not need any witnesses.

"Eyghon," he snarled "how long has it been since you have been feeding of the dead or unconscious. Preying on the weak, invirile, and the uneducated. Where is your pride, your thirst for battle, the rush you feel when you defeat a stronger and faster opponent."

"Who are you to talk to me about pride human? Demons fed on your people like the cattle they are until the interference of the Powers and Old Gods and they will again, it is inevitable."

Harry watched as the body flopped up and faced him. Clearly the Etruscan demon lacked the re-animation abilities that the vampiric demons did.

"You, lowly human, ask where my pride is. You dare!! I have survived for centuries and defeated beings that would use your organs for delicatessens."

Stepping closer and grabbing the corpse's dead flesh, Harry allowed his rage and madness to shine through his dark green eyes as he starred into the dead and decaying brown orbs of Pillip Henry. Dropped his mental shielding and creating a direct entry for the possession demon he growled deeply, "come then demon, step into my mind."

He ignored the rapid decomposition of Phillip Henry's body into green slime distastefully as the Etruscan possession demon slammed into his mind. It ran roughshod over his traps and slammed through the mental compartments that organised his mind.

"Strong," Harry croaked as he gripped the alley wall in pain and for support, completely focussed on the battle within his mind. The demon was powerful and angry, a dangerous combination as it wrecked as much havoc in his mind as it could.

Eyghon he found, favoured mental pain and destruction to control and it was the demons lack of focus that saved him from a quick and humiliating defeat. He had seriously underestimated the demons strength and thought fleetingly to redefine 'challenge' to his symbiotic AI. Then again, if he won, it would prove his superiority in ways that a weaker opponent could never do.

Throwing off the fear of loss and uncertainty from the more powerful demonic mind, Harry counterattacked. This is what he wanted, to show his superiority, his strength and control. Nothing would stop him, NOTHING.

Using every brutal and often morally corrupt technique he had, Harry harried the demon across his mind. Often leading the demon into multi-layered traps and reinforcing his external walls to prevent escape. Amongst the devastation Eyghon had quickly wrecked in his mind, Harry tore into the demon with a ferocity and self righteous fury that it could not match.

He tore the demon apart, using the knowledge he had gained from the demonic energies of vampiric demons and countered the demons cunning with his own.

It was his mind, his character and changes apart – memories and experiences aside, he was its master.

Dropping to his knees, he delegated his external safety to CSE for the second time in less than a month, everything he had was focussed in destroying the demon he had invited into his mind. He would have time enough later to repair the damage it was wrecking to his physke.

And then with a final shriek of pain and despair it was over. Despite his external mental shields Eyghon still managed to flee destruction to whatever hellish dimension he had come from. But it didn't matter.

Harry was left to survey the swathes of destruction his epic struggle had left. It was a pyrrhic victory but Harry could only smile. He had won, despite his handicaps and induced weaknesses he had WON.

It did not matter what dimension or body he was in, what enemies he faced or what allies he used. Betrayals aside, HE controlled his destiny and nothing could change that.

He, Harry Potter was back from what ever self doubt had held him back and revenge when he grasped it would be SWEET!

* * *

If anyone had been awake or around the streets in the earlier hours of the morning in Sunnydale they would have seen an extraordinary thing. Streams of insects interspersed with the occasional arachnoids emerging from the sewer entry points across the town.

Flying, crawling and sometimes hopping, they emerged in a large dark cloud and quickly disbursed into the dark streets and alleys of Sunnydale. From there they would slowly migrate as insects were wont to do - across ecosystems, crossing mapped borders and geographical boundaries.

However much these tiny creatures behaved like the biological creatures they looked like, following ecological patterns, eating and defecating – they were far from it. They were in fact CSE and Harry's primary asset in global surveillance and information control.

It was a well known fact that humans paid little attention to the mosquito's that buzzed around a balmy evening conversation, or the cloud of flies that were attracted to the sizzling meat of BBQ's held between business partners or even the small spider in the corner of alcotraves in dining rooms.

As long as they belonged in the ecology they were found in and behaved as expected they were ignored and free to transmit useful intelligence data to be analysed and processed.

The waves of insects that were released, the first of many, would take years, to fully infiltrate the globe. Anything less would risk detection or suspicion. In the meantime other, more conventional methods would be used to augment the coverage of the ever expanding spy network.

Good intelligence after all, won more wars than military might ever did.


	4. A Brewing Storm

4. A Brewing Storm 

**Title:** Chaos on the Hellmouth  
**Author name:** Kunglou

**Author email:** AU  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** Harry Potter had fielded and led vast armies, manipulated intergalactic wars and raised mankind to the heights of first ones but he had not actually existed until a chaos mage had sabotaged a Halloween on the hell mouth.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own either BTVS or Harry Potter and claim no rights to the copyrighted material. I am making no money off this story.

**Author notes: Massively AU, OC, HP: A matter or Perception/BtVS/Bab5**

**If you are unfamiliar with the perception series I really recommend that you read the first two pieces for this piece to make sense. Keep in mind that Xander was possessed, his memories merged with the more dominant personality of Harry's.**

**Ch4 will resolve any remaining Bab5 cross. Further details will be filled in the previous works. This will clear room for the future intended crossover which I am sure you will all have guessed by now. **

Ch4 – A Brewing Storm

"It is true that in the first place, demons owned this world. They lost it in a grand battle with the Emperor, and fight to this day to take it back again."  
- _from __Emperor Taizu's Book__ written in 971_

Neutral territory, boarder of Minbari space

Year 2340

John Sheriden slouched casually on the bridge of his personalized war cruiser as it drifted on a predetermined path through a demolished system at the edge of Minbari space, very close to the uncharted regions. 'Or at least, what was once Minbari space, we have been laying claim to increasing swathe of it as we've pushed the Minbari further towards their core worlds,' John though with amusement.

John contemplation the rubble outside of his cruiser, what used to be a large system of seven planets teaming with an industrialized society looking forward to expanding beyond their home system and answering the age old question of whether there existed life beyond the stars was now the largest asteroid field outside the galactic core.

They had made the mistake of picking sides in a war without winners. The Vorlon's and Shadows thought less of the younger races than his people did, and they had been responsible for more than a few extinctions of their own.

Both the Vorlons and the Shadows were as bad as each other in manipulating the younger races at the edges of their mighty and ongoing struggle and he refused to allow his people to become caught up in it, he doubted any of his order would. Though he feared that it was only a matter of time before the two technologically advanced giants turned their attentions to some new threats.

Within sensor range of his cruiser, drifted a Gaim destroyer, a Narn g´quan class heavy cruiser and a Yolu gun ship. An intimidating show of force in anyone's mind, Markab scatterguns, pulse cannons and some sort of energy weapon that he had seen strip a quarter mile of armor from a Dilgar military mobilization centre, reducing it to its constituent molecules, stood armed and locked on each other despite the seemingly friendly and diplomatic talks between the four races.

He would be worried if he had not mined the entire system with stealthily hidden gravimetric mines that would turn the surrounding area into a rarely seen singularity. Even then, he had the power to give them something they all desperately craved, or thought they did, and they were not about the attack him while he had leverage. Besides that, he was the only one that could escape this system unhindered. John doubted any of the younger races would start something.

He felt almost sorry for anyone who even thought about crashing this party, though he relished the fight that would eventuate. John frowned as he thought about the missed opportunity of organizing some raiders to really get to see the capabilities of those weapons for himself before he shook his head, he had more important things to worry about and he had faith in both the strength of his peoples magic and their technology, the cunning that went with it was pure jam.

John smiled cruelly as he brought his attention back to the three warships before him, born in 2215 to a muggle descended family, he had to fight and maneuver his way to the pinnacle of his society, making use of every scrap of cunning and skill he had. The lessons learned by his ancestor's six millennia of warfare helped enormously and during his lifetime his family had clawed their way to compete within the normally restricted domain of older pureblood families.

Compared to his earlier struggles, this standoff was insignificant he thought as he vainly tried to ignore the hole in his mind. A hole that he had been indirectly or directly responsible for, depending on how he justified his actions.

A member of secretive and illusive Order of lightening for decades, he had become used to his mind being linked to Harry Potters, the leader of the illusive and powerful order, and his magical core being caressed by the leader's overwhelming power. The loss of that feeling, the sudden hole in his mind at its absence, he knew would be being felt be the rest of the order and worse, they had less time to prepare for such a feeling. To them his sudden absence would be a shock and they would struggle to interpret its meaning.

It was…comforting to know that such a man existed and headed a powerful order that actively sought the improvement of the wizarding world and guided it's rapid and often ruthless development throughout an increasingly bloody and conflict ridden galaxy. The Order had been responsible for just as many extinctions and exterminations in their own way as the callous first ones had been, either through manipulations or direct action.

Something that he had become part of and seen the necessity of too often, it was something faced too often when you played in a sandpit with inferior races that spouted like weeds and had access to too much power.

He had been honored to have been approached, in the last years of the Dilgar extermination, by a man that had raised the wizarding world to such heights. Harry Potter was a legend, almost a god in some eyes, and the invitation to join his group, to let go of the old Byzantine nature of the clan and guild structure of the wizarding world and achieve something amazing and visionary was too good to pass up.

Beside's the honor, John saw it as a mighty challenge. Even then, rumors of 'giants among the stars' and races that had been conquered and exterminated in mere days had abounded. The threat facing his people was greater than ever and matching his skills against the greatest challenges yet to be faced alongside the greatest of their people would prove him superior than all those naysayer's that had littered his career. 'At least those that were still alive,' he thought with a sudden and ruthless grin.

He would have to leave his command behind and his men would remain with his family since only the leader of the order knew how many members there were or indeed who they were, but such things hadn't mattered to him as he assumed his new role with relish.

The technologies and resources available to him after he joined had dwarfed that which had been available to him as a mere three star general of an alliance of new families. The wonders that he had seen through the following decades and the deals he had been a part of to raise his people to even giddier heights had been worth the sacrifice's and the isolation.

In fact, if he had wanted to, if it was required, he could have a fleet built for his personal use. Such power was heady and only restrained by Harry and his careful selection of members. His connection to the leader was not only for comfort, support and reassurance but also to ensure loyalty.

That connection with Harry Potter and the ever greater challenges he had faced and beaten had been enough for him, until he had started to become aware of a more sinister plot. One that threatened to destabilize the galaxy even further and could potentially crush any advances his people had made against the lesser races. He could see his people starting down the road in which dozens of other extinct races had traveled and Harry Potter, the leader of an order that dedicated themselves to the empire that his people had carved out – was at its centre.

Not as an instigator, but rather as a target.

John Sheriden had always been highly skilled in the mind arts, it was what attracted the Orders attention in the first place, and with Harry's personal tutoring - he was always amazed at the leaders power and the depth of his understanding about magic, and decades to concentrate his studies and powers his skill had ballooned. Decades that had been gifted to him as a member of the order; he was not blind to the fact that members often lived far longer than the average witch or wizard.

With his skills in the mind arts, he began to sense a flaw in the previously comforting mental link that connected them and that had shown him potentially the greatest challenge to his skills and ruthlessness in his life. The power that had previously been so comforting now seemed less, and further investigation revealed that someone had breached his leader's defenses and waited for the perfect bait and opportunity to set his trap. In turn bringing the whole system and his people down with him.

John had little doubt that without the Orders sometimes subtle leadership, his people would soon face a united alien threat that they had little ability to survive, they had reveled in their superiority and played the lesser races against each other for too long and Harry was at the heart of the order. In fact, without Harry to continuously escalate the Shadow and Vorlon conflicts, the fear of them turning against Wizarding society was vastly increased as well.

Only his relative closeness to Harry, particularly over the last three decades had allowed him to sense the trap and even then, he had been unable to find out those behind it, only that it had existed unsprung from before he had joined the Order. He doubted that any alien had the ability or the influence to be able to set such a subtle trap. Mere telepathy was not enough, even P12's or greater, a greater understanding of the mind and its relationship with the human spirit and magical core was also needed.

The traitor had to be a fellow wizard or witch, almost certainly an unknown member of their order and the planned attack was horrifying.

At a pre-ordained signal, a wedge would split Harry's symbiotic intelligence from both his mind and his core. Given that it had been integrated and bound centuries previously, the effects of such an attack would be devastating and death would be the least worrisome outcome. The protection that Harry had provided since before they had risen from the mudball that had been his home would be stripped from wizarding society and his loss would be felt through out the Order and the empire.

Harry would have no warning, and even in the unlikely event he prevented or defeated the attack, and John could not discount the possibility, Harry was nothing if not incredibly powerful and his understanding of magic surely could not be matched, the no doubt public nature of the attack and it's more sinister effects would ultimately lead to their people's extinction.

His loyalty and commitment to the wizarding society that had begun to walk the stars under their own power, the order of lightening and Harry's position and safety were as firm and idealistic as they had always been, if slightly tempered by the gritty realism and cynicism of war and politics within the shadows between the greater powers of the universe.

It had led him down a slightly different path than he had ever imagined and one certainly many of his order would have thought treasonous at best. He shuddered to think what Harry would have done had he discovered beforehand what he had planned, for he would have to attack his teacher if he were to successfully be able to subvert the attack and render it into a strength for his mentor. John had no illusions that catching his teacher off guard was the only way he would have a sliver of success, and he had been right.

Two flickering jump gates opened up, obliterating the rubble and space debris that littered the system and that drifted too close to the event horizon of the jump points, spitting out the remainder of the once proud Minbari fleet. Few of the warships that remained, remained undamaged, the once unbeatable fleet had had its back broken. His people had trashed the once proud Minbari and even better, he smiled grimly, they had used the Centuari dogs to do it for them.

"You have lived up to your end of our agreement," an aged Minbari murmured next to his command chair, staring at the remainder of his people. His voice sounded bitter and the mistrust was evident in his voice. With the Minbari ships arriving here, there could be little doubt of the outcome of the battle for the old Minbari's home world.

"Of course I did," John sneered, suppressing his obvious distaste at the aliens present on his bridge. The consequences of what he had done hitting home even harder and the hole in his mind, the absence of Harry Potter's link, seemed to grow even more hollowed.

He allowed himself some manner of assurance that Harry was not dead or banished forever, and he would be back stronger than before. Not that he had told his alien allies that of course. He had manipulated them even as they thought they had finally found someone of power to betray his people. 'Pathetic,' he thought in disgust 'no wonder they cannot stand proudly amongst the stars. Even their attempts of subterfuge are transparent and incompetent, they wouldn't last a second in the family structure on Earth.'

"Then the destroyer of races is dead and we can rejoice," an artificial translator partially hid the beeps and clicks of the Gaim ambassador.

"With him finally gone, the Centauri will be easily rolled back. You have done a great thing John Sheriden," the Narn ambassador announced, the jubilance in his voice unmistakable. "A great thing and will be rewarded, the universe will indeed be a safer place and your name will be sung in songs for generations."

"Fools," he spat out. John's anger seemed to grow and his magic lashed out striking painfully and cruelly at the ambassadors, his temporary alien pawns. "Harry Potter may have been one man, but he created a system that flourished on conflict, on challenge for hundreds of years and will no doubt continue to do so. He may be gone, and with it his direct protection, but the effects of his absence will not be felt for decades, perhaps even centuries."

After all, he mused privately behind his mask of anger and impotent rage, Harry had vanished for years previously with no one being the wiser and it had been that fact, that had finally persuaded him as to his cause of action.

It would prove impossible, even with his enormous talent in the mind arts, to disable the trap completely. Instead he had decided to get within the trap and trigger it in his own time and with his own consequences. Finding out who was responsible was less important than that. Ultimately, it would be Harry that faced them and addressed the weakness in his defenses.

And if he could not, then he was not worthy of returning from wherever he had been sent. All John knew was that, the experience would temper Harry's excesses and strengthen his weakness. 'Relative weakness,' John though ironically.

Instead of spliting Harry's symbiotic intelligence from both his mind and his core as the originator of the trap had intended for it to do, he had shunted him into another universe to give his leader time to rest after centuries of warfare and to gain new skills and power. It was an action that strained his own cores ability to manipulated causality, but it was an action that would highlight the traps danger to Harry, his weaknesses and his need to overcome them. It would be up to him from there.

"Harry Potter," John announced slowly "is a combination of religious and military leader to our people. When his absence is noticed, our people may well go mad. You may yet regret all of you, what you have asked for. Still, I have delivered and received what I wanted, now get off my ship."

With a flick of his hand, a hand that obscured the wand embedded into his forearm, he forced apparated the aliens from his bridge to their vessels. The cold, alien and disgustingly weak feel of their minds was starting to make him nauseous.

Staring out at the ruined system, he just hoped that Harry would return before the open war that they had manipulated between the Vorlons and Shadows turned the entire galaxy into rubble. His strength would be needed, and he hoped that his friend would forgive him from ripping him out of one universe and into another.

But until Harry returned to forgive him, he would no longer wear the Order vest, or its symbol. It reminded him too much of his betrayal and how it conflicted with his loyalties no matter how he justified his actions. His next challenge would be to find the traitor that was responsible for the initial trap. It would be the second greatest challenge of his life for he doubted he would ever be able to catch Harry Potter off guard again.

And perhaps, just perhaps it was time to have that fleet built.

* * *

"For years we've been paying other peoples' debts with our own money and blood, spending trillions of dollars and the lives of our young men and women, our son's and daughter's, our husband's and wife's, on conflicts that were not our own." President Jackson's voice echoed strongly over a crowd of loyal supporters in a mid morning address. The still air proved effective in carrying his booming voice without the use of a microphone and only the sharp clatter of camera's interrupted his address.

Dave smiled as the crowd roared in response and also support for the recently re-elected president's message as he paused his speech. Just over four years ago the 45th president to be, had run hard on an isolationist, grassroots and domestic issues focused campaign. It had proven immensely popular amongst a soaring foreign debt, failing health and education standards, climate change and an aging population.

"Over the last decade we have spent more money and focused more energy on the middle east, the Asia pacific and the African sub-continent than we have in our own backyards and our elderly, our children and the next generation has been paying for it and will continue to pay for it for decades to come. Unless we do something about it now!"

His confident stance and easy demeanor worked extremely well with the public and seemed to earn the trust of people he had never met. He was extremely photogenic and his message had proven so popular amongst voters that he had been returned to office with an increased majority. America had rarely seen such sustained voter participation or satisfaction ratings, and he liked to think that he played a significant role in that.

"Now, as you know, since first being elected just over four years ago now I have sought to change that. More of you are employed than any other time since post world war two, I have reduced unemployment to 4, our education and health standards continue to raise and the good times, while not here yet, are definitely approaching."

He had been a close ally and advisor to Senator Jackson years before he had decided to run for presidency and now that he had achieved that goal, he was one of the president's closest advisors. It was he, that had seen the way the winds were blowing during the thirty years that the Bush and Clinton families had controlled the Whitehouse and he had advised the then Senator to start gently pushing increasingly isolationist positions.

"Our position in the OECD rankings are no longer falling, we are making a comeback in a world were the American dream has been all but forgotten. No longer are people wondering who will replace America when our economy, our people stumble. Now we are once again heralded as world leaders. AS WE SHOULD BE!!"

When the opportunity arose to run for president arose, he had urged the senator to grab it. The presidential race was the most open for decades, the public the most disillusioned and disheartened in decades. World affairs seemed to be playing on everyone's mind and the problems seemed insurmountable, it had proven to be a perfect storm that had swept Lance Jackson into office despite his relative inexperience.

Almost immediately, plans for staged withdrawal from the worlds hotspots were dusted off, funds were scrutinized and re-appropriated and technology transfers to strategic interests were endorsed by the senate. Tax rates and red tape were slashed and a stagnating economy suddenly found itself being reinvigorated.

Results from those initial reforms were starting to take effect and now with an increased majority President Jackson's reforms could become embedded into the administration. It had taken these four years just to shift some back office bureaucrats and restructure private fiefdoms that had existed for longer than the last three presidents combined.

"I want to thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for your help in this. Because, make no mistake. You are all part of making history in giving me the opportunity to raise America to the golden standards our founders envisaged. Standards that many past leaders seemed to lose sight of."

Foreign debt had halved, America's terms of trade was improving and productivity gains in health and science was finally taking effect. More than that, the money saved from staged military withdrawals from around the world was fueling a massive infrastructure program. It was everything they had envisaged together and the vision drew support across the country.

Dave looked up as a final wild cheer took place and his old friend finished his standard post election campaign trail speech. He had been making that one for weeks and it never failed to get the blood pumping and raise the audience's eyes towards the future in hope. The American dream was well and truly alive after decades of decline and stagnation. It was the biggest tragedy that the American public had become used to bumbling, inefficient and lying politicians with competing agenda's, at least in his term that had changed.

"As always, a great speech Mr. President," Dave said laughing as he gripped Lance's hand firmly before they were both hustled away by security.

"Don't you start Dave, all this was your idea more than it was mine. I could never have dreamed that we could change things so fast or so successfully, but you were truly visionary."

Dave smiled, it was an old argument between them, old friends that they were. He was the brains trust and held the experience but he lacked the ability to charm people the way Lance did. In that respect, they made the perfect team but the office of the president of the United States held room for only one. Dave didn't mind, he didn't think he could have lived in the glass bowl anyway.

"You heard about the Australians yet?" he asked as the both slid into the black Mercedes in the middle of the security convoy.

"No, are they still having problems with the Chinese?" Lance frowned in confusion. Ever since their Australian allies had 'encouraged' the small pacific nations to their north and east, small islands that they had previously dubbed the ring of instability, into their commonwealth they had been having problems with the other major powers in the south pacific.

A massive undertaking over the years to integrate the new nations into their society, aided by American technology, manpower and money had created an economy that upset the status quo in the region. In fact, the old island nations had quickly seen the benefit of becoming Australian citizens once they began to get access to a mature and established job market, social security and judiciary. The Chinese and Taiwanese who had long been used to playing political games of legitimacy unhindered in the area had not been happy.

He couldn't have been happier though, despite America's large investment and low interest loans to the new commonwealth of Australia, it had saved them billions in the region and gained them an ally to economically and militarily balance China and India. Even better, having learnt the harsh consequences over the last century of sharing technology with fair weather allies, America could trust Australia implicitly. He doubted there existed a situation where they would raise arms against them or their interests, unlike some other past allies. The outcome was perfect from a foreign policy standpoint and helped enhance their ability to focus on their own country while expanding their influence abroad.

"Actually," Dave shook his head "it's the Indonesians. With such a rapid economic and military buildup in the new commonwealth of Australia, not to mention the undocumented access to our technology, they have been rabbiting on about an arms race. Mix that with the multiple separatist movement they have going at the moment, most of whom want to join the new commonwealth, and you have a potential flashpoint."

"Mmmmm…., I can't help noticing the increasing radicalizing of the region either. Ever since withdrawing completely from the middle east, the great strides over the last decade in becoming independent to Middle Eastern oil and locking up Canada's and Australia's nuclear resources for the westosphere and I guess these extremist see the most populous Islamic nation as the best hope at combating western ideals and Culture."

"Well, keep an eye on them but I see domestic issues and defensive military technology as priorities."

Dave nodded in thought, with their British allies walking a tightrope with continental Europe and Russia and China not being the threat they were the rumors of a major extremist Islamic state north of the Australian commonwealths borders was worrying.

"Always, always. I'll let you know if and when they become an unavoidable problem."

President Jackson nodded, his thoughts already on his next speech. These sorts of issues were what Dave was good at after all.

* * *

Buffy looked blankly at the heavily lacquered doors that bordered the school library trying vainly to remember how she got there. Vague memories of the vicious ambush by the Skilosh demons, being nursed back to health at Xander's new place – now that was embarrassing, and a casual walk to the school stood out amongst the lack of recalled details.

She had no idea how Xander had gotten hold of a change of clothes for her, though there was something deeply disturbing by the thought of her mother not only knowing she had spent the night but handing over a change of clothes. For the life of her, she could not remember the address of Xander's new place either; even details of his house were sketchy.

Perhaps even more worrying than the gaps in her memory, she had suffered a concussion after all, was that Xander had obviously been walking through the cemetery at the same time as her ambush. She refused to believe, despite her earlier suspicions, that there had been any sinister motives behind his presence there but she couldn't help to wonder WHY he had been there in the first place. After all, even accompanied by Angel and equipped with the famous slayer powers and training, she had still almost died. Xander had even less ability to defend himself if attacked.

The thought of her friend risking himself like that, without training or powers, Buffy shook her head, unconsciously fingering the bandages that still bound her torso. Even though he had spent less time with the Scooby gang lately, she still valued the few friends she had that knew of her secret and she was reluctant to risk them on something as unimportant as random patrols.

Then there were her injuries. Xander had been very vague about the extent of her injuries, only going so far as too say that if he had taken the time to drop her off at the hospital she would have died, as a concession he had catalogued a list for Giles. After all, as afraid as she was to look at the Giles labeled A4 envelope, her watcher needed to know all the information of her attack as she could give him.

Her health also directly impacted any training he offered her as part of his duties. As brutally as she had been attacked, as systematically as her defenses had been destroyed and as helpless as she had felt in defending herself in the face of attack despite her powers and training however, she had begun to feel a fear and reluctance to experience that again.

For the first time since she had first been awakened to her powers and destiny, it all seemed to much. She felt like very small light against an overwhelming darkness, hopeless in the face of inevitability. It did not escape her notice that Xander had rescued her from certain death twice now either.

Taking a deep breath to regain her equilibrium and repress the scared, wide eyed look that she had been carrying around since her second near death experience in as many years, she pushed into the library. A thick layer of foundation had covered the majority her residual bruising, and short of a close inspection and her still stiff movements, she might never have been near death in the first place.

She only wished the emotional scars, her confidence, could be healed as quickly as her physical ones had.

As usual, Giles and Willow seemed to be pouring over some old tomb or another. Xander wasn't anywhere that she could see and if Angel had been as injured as she was, she doubted he would be around anytime soon either. She was not blind to the aversion between Xander and her vamperic boyfriend.

"Heya guys," she chirped out to Giles and Willow with more confidence than she felt as she pulled out a chair next to them and flopped down, almost throwing the envelope containing her list of injuries at her watcher with nervousness. "Where's Xander?"

"You don't need to pretend Buffy?" Willow said, eyes shining with curiosity and delight at the chance at engaging in some gossip with her best female friend. "We know you spent the night there. So how was your study date? How did you get Snyder to let you skip school? What about Angel? I didn't know that you were interested in ancient British history and culture, cause you know Giles is sooo proud."

Buffy looked at Willow blankly as her brain slowly sorted through her best friends babble before she realized how Xander had managed to clear everything with the school and her mum. Slightly smarter than she had expected from her friend but if it avoided a second expulsion she was all good. Still, she wondered what he would do when they actually demanded evidence of work.

Once again the last remnants of her fight with the Skilosh demons flashed through her mind and she shivered remembering the deadening cold that had slowly crept into her limbs as she thought she was dying, she was dying. Somehow though she couldn't quite bring herself to explain herself further than a quickly mumbled, "Willow, I almost died."

"Ooooooohhhhh," Willow squealed in excitement, completely misinterpreting the other girl's response. "I sooo want details."

"Good Lord!" Giles interjected, "you could have died."

Willow's head whipped around to look at the ashen Watchers face in surprise and horror at his reiteration of her statement.

"Was it really that bad?" Buffy asked in a small voice, afraid to ask. She was going to be forever grateful to Xander for saving her life, even if she had only vague recollections of the actual saving, but she couldn't bring herself to engage the morbid curiosity she felt at reviewing her injuries any sort of detail. A slayer could take a lot of damage and it would probably just make her feel worse.

"Buffy," Giles began. The hands that held the list of her injuries shook as he slumped into his chair. "I have no idea how you could have survived them. Even with you Slayer healing…"

"You should have died." Willow was not alone this time in turning toward the voice in surprise. Angel's appearance from behind the book stacks was a complete surprise.

"Angel," Buffy cried in relief but her tone soon turned to shock at the older vampire's injuries. His face was swollen and discolored, both legs were splintered as he leaned heavily onto a pair of crouches and the bulky padding of bandages and dressings could be seen through his clothing. He looked like he had been hit by a truck, Buffy new that the reality was far worse.

"Even with a supply of donated human blood, the demon is struggling to heal my injuries. Those Skilosh demons knew what they were doing and they took us both apart easily, we should have both died that night. I have seen less, far less, take down a slayer in my past – Hell I have taken down more than a few myself and they complete overwhelmed me. So why are we alive?"

"Hold on buster, back up." Willow interrupted harshly at the older vampire. "Could someone explain what happened?"

"Yes," Giles murmured "I would very much like one of you to start at the beginning. How the blazes did you manage to almost get yourself killed when to my knowledge you where safe at a friends house?" The watchers ashen face was rapidly regaining color but his hands still shook as he clumsily slipped the list back into the envelope he had retrieved it from.

Buffy flinched back remembering the fight and the iciness in her extremities from free falling blood pressure; she nodded gratefully as Willow got up and placed an extra coat over her shivering shoulders. "It all started Wednesday night, Angel and I were combining some quality time with a quick patrol of cemetery 3. It was all so routine you know?"

Giles nodded vaguely as he remembered seeing her off after she stocked up on the usual supplies of stakes, bladed weaponry and holy water.

"It had been a fairly quiet night, a few fledglings and I was looking forward to finishing the patrol to spend more time with Angel outside of patrol when a pack of demons surrounded and attacked us. No banter, no threats, they just rushed us and beat us into the ground. I think I got one, it all got a bit hazy though, and I got separated from Angel early in the fight. I didn't find out until afterward what or who they where."

"She's right." Angel broke in roughly, "they were familiar enough with our routine and outnumbered us enough that they were able to separate and put as down with minimum effort. The last thing I remember from that night is having my head smashed in by the side of a crypt. Skilosh demons, when they attack in a pack are deadly, I still haven't found out why I was left alive."

"Next thing I knew," Buffy continued, huddled defensively into a chair, "was waking up with a concussion on Xander's lounge and wondering why I wasn't dead. I barely had enough energy to eat and then I was out like a light again. Thank god Xander was there."

"Is it always going to be like this Giles?" Buffy whispered pityingly, "what use is being a Slayer when it is so easy to beat one, to kill one?"

"Sorry I'm late guy's, the line at the doughnut shop was murder, literally. Then I had to dodge Snyder with the sweets and…." Xander trailed off as everyone stared at him but Buffy straightened slightly in his presence.

"Xander," she whispered in relief. When he hadn't been there when she woke up she had been slightly concerned. The still warm cooked breakfast was nice but…

"OK….. no one died did they? Cause you know, Buffy looks a lot better than she did?" Xander commented as he started serving up the sickly chocolate and cream treats.

Buffy winced at his comment and waited for Giles or Angel to break the awkward silence, it did not pass her notice that her watcher had not answered her question and that hurt. Was a Slayer no more than a sacrifice served up to the demons and vampires of the world, sport?

"No, thanks to you, Xander. Is this list of yours accurate?" Giles asked referring to the list of injuries that Buffy had given him earlier.

The thumping of Angel's crutches on the wooden floor boards as he approached the group cut off any reply that Xander may have given however, "we have bigger problems. That group of Skilosh demons were taken out by a more serious threat. There is a rumor running through the demon circles of a being of great power setting up base over the Hellmouth."

"Aaagghhhh nuts," Xander replied through a mouthful of crème "I know Buffy's great and all but she's still recovering and anything that is strong enough to take out those demons had to be a serious threat, right? Still, at least those demons won't be a threat to us anymore."

"Yes, quite." Giles agreed, suddenly finding his equilibrium and reaching for a pile of books. "What were those demons you mentioned earlier? Maybe we can get an idea of this new threats capability from their demise."

"Skilosh demons, worse than that – I hear he has defeated a number of master vampires over the last year. Ownership over the hell mouth is a precious commodity amongst demons."

Buffy slipped out of the library unnoticed as the discussion of Sunnydale's latest big bad warmed up. She shivered in fear and wondered if she would ever be able to match those who regularly tried to claim the slayers scalp without fear or uncertainty.

* * *

Alan finch, deputy mayor of Sunnydale, walked through the semi-empty halls of the town hall with hesitancy in his step and a glint of fear in his eye, the rolls of paper he held in his arms crinkled at every step doing nothing for his nerves. What had promised to be a plumb assignment for a budding politician, one filled with business, political contacts and the close mentoring of a politician whose family had managed to hold onto office for three generations had quickly turned into a decade of fear and near death experiences.

Oh he had been introduced into a political and business web that few ever dreamed of but what it came with…. Alan shuddered and avoided the hard stare of a vampire that stalked the corridor leading towards the mayor's office. The supernatural world that he had quickly fallen into and which blackened his soul was unavoidable and inescapable; it was a perfect example of 'be careful what you wish for' and how he wished he had never even heard of Sunnydale.

He was directly or indirectly responsible for more deaths than a warlord in a third world nation and although he hated it, he knew that the only way to escape the world he had found himself intrinsically tied to was death. That or the arrival of someone even more powerful, potentially an even greater evil than his boss, Alan shuddered again and sometimes wondered what was worse – after all, everyone needed an accountant.

Still, meeting the Mayor never got easier and after ten long years, he wondered how much longer his nerves would last. Shivering and breaking out in a cold sweat at the news that he brought tonight, he wondered if that time had come whn someone bigger and badder than his boss had come to claim the Hellmouth. 'Perhaps,' he thought, 'though it was too early to tell and I need to survive telling the boss the bad news.'

Pushing the door open, Alan was relieved to find Mayor Richard Wilkins alone in his office. The mayor's visitors were always very powerful and sometimes very short tempered; he often wondered how he had survived so long. "Mr. Mayor," he rushed out breathlessly trying not to drop the roles of paper he carried in his arms, "I have news."

"Now Alan, what have I always told you," Mayor Wilkins replied in a deceptively childish voice as he waved Alan in, "call me Richard when we are alone. Mayor Wilkins makes me feel so OLD."

Alan nodded automatically as he entered the office, if he did not know better he would have been put at ease by the Mayors comments, but he had been deputy for ten years and the small lines beneath the mans eyes told him he was being played with, not a good thing. This particular man went through deputies like underwear and when he felt playful lots of painful death and destruction usually followed.

He may behave like a child at time, but Alan would never forget that the mayor was a both a psychopath and an accomplished killer. Only when one understood the different moods and could shift as quickly as the unstable man in front of him could you avoid being killed – sometimes. Alan did not kid himself, he had been very lucky so far.

"Of course," he replied having no intention of every calling the man Richard, alone or otherwise. "But I have been receiving worrying reports about the sewers and tunnels surrounding the location of the Hellmouth."

Alan started unrolling the pieces of paper unto a handy whiteboard, revealing detailed schematics of the tunnel and sewer systems that riddled the foundations of Sunnydale. "We have lost contact with nests in the regions behind tunnels 31-B to 33-C which I have marked in Red, the yellow regions are the area's that demonic packs having reportedly gone missing in. Some packs contained some master vampires and their children, formidable by most standards."

"That combined with the rumors of a new player in the region that has adopted the pseudonym of 'Holder of the Hellmouth' and I can only assume that someone or something powerful is seeking to establish a base of operation over the Hellmouth with the eventual intention of challenging your authority, perhaps even a pack?"

Alan had heard of enough reports of demon packs, some quite powerful going missing around the area to rule their disappearance entirely co-incidental and after the rumors had started to become to hard to ignore, despite his uncertainty of how his boss would react he had to report it before the news reached the mayor through alternative means – that would be a guaranteed death sentence.

"Yes, quite troubling Alan. You were correct to bring this to my attention, do go on. What other tidbits do you have about this interesting fellow?" The mayor drawled out, the threat was quite clear – 'this better not be all you have on this guy? Stop wasting my time.'

Stifling the urge to wipe the sweat from his brow, Alan unrolled another piece of paper from his pile. On it was a detailed drawing of a large Cerberus, "Although it's identity is not known, it has taken to marking the scenes of its attacks with this symbol. It is an image of a…"

"A Cerberus yes, quite ironic wouldn't you say, for the so called Holder of the mouth of hell." The mayors eyebrow raised slightly causing Alan to dig out a list of semi confirmed casualties that he had managed to find and attribute to the new player.

"Most of the casualties attributable to the 'Holder of the Hellmouth' can't be directly confirmed. However I have compiled an incomplete list for you to look over, most recently a pack of six Skilosh demons had the unfortunate pleasure of running into him. The single survivor had no new information to give me, he has recently joined the rest of his pack."

Mayor Wilkins nodded thoughtfully as he skimmed the list, "most troublesome. And so close to my ascension too. I see that either intentionally or not it saved the slayers life? That is a shame, still I suppose another would just have been called, so no loss really."

Alan almost sighed in relief as the Mayor clicked his tongue and shook his head. The chances of him surviving this meeting had risen significantly, the mayor had lost his playful look and redirected his attention to this new threat. Alan refocused his attention back on the mayor as the old mage continued.

"That is something that will be easily corrected soon but I simply cannot afford any potential threats right now, I am going to have to do something drastic I am afraid. How very uncivilized of me." Mayor Wilkins sounded almost contrite, but from experience Alan knew he was a master at manipulating emotions and perception.

Tensing slightly as the mayor reached over to his desk draw, he almost held his breath in anticipation. Surprises were never good, especially when he was alone in the office with the Mayor.

"You see this Alan?" asked Mayor Wilkins as he withdrew a gold ring from his desk draw. "This should solve this little problem before it has a chance to erupt in all our faces. Even so, I hate redeeming favors for something so trivial."

Alan forced himself not to step back in fear as a column of fire erupted beside him, the heat pealing his skin and burning him painfully. The mayor hated how the cowardice of employees reflected upon him and any move that may be misconstrued as a retreat would definitely NOT be a good career move.

A humanoid figure, cloaked in flame resolved itself, from the mass of flames, before addressing the Mayor. "What do you want Wilkins," it growled completely ignoring the deputy mayor that it had almost burnt to a crisp, its scorn and hatred dripped from its voice leaving no doubt what it thought of the one to summon it. "The Order of Teraka has more important matters to attend to than the trifling matters of a self deluded mage with delusions of grandeur."

Alan shivered in fear despite the heat, he had heard of the Order of Teraka. They were a group of assassins and bounty hunters that had been around since the time of Solomon and if the gold ring was any indication this was one of their senior members.

"How uncivilized," the mayor replied from behind his desk, seeming unconcerned at the demonic figure growling threatening at him from the column of liquid fire. "Del'thos, I know you have secured a contract on the slayer girl recently and I wish to add to that little deal."

Alan flinched in pain as flames began to lash out violently from the column of flame even as the mayor continued mockingly. "You see, not much gets passed me these days, particularly in my own city. Did you really think that your order could really operate so obviously without my knowing?"

"The internal workings of the Order of Teraka are outside your jurisdiction Human scum. We're none of your concern." The heat was unbearable and the overwhelming feeling of lethal threat and oppressive power coming from the column of living flame indescribable – he wanted to run away screaming and be consumed at the same time, he felt deeply conflicted down to his bones. It reminded him why he hated being present while the mayor did business. One mistake could potentially lead to his death, from either his boss or whoever the boss was meeting at the time.

"Ahhh, but I am afraid it is and this is why" the mayor chuckled as he held up the gold ring he had retrieved from his desk drawer earlier. "You see, the debt owed to me still has to be paid in full, but I will consider a few of your more powerful assassin's payment enough. Add the so called 'Holder of the Hellmouth' to the contract taken out by that sniveling blond vampire and I will consider all debts between your order and I even."

"Granted," grunted the voice in rage and frustration.

Alan sighed in relief and not a bit of pain as cool air once again washed over his skin as the column of flames and the gold ring disappeared. Once again he would be healing from his encounter with Mayor Wilkins and his business associates but at least he had survived it.

Even as the mayor waved him out of his office he wondered, 'safe, but for how much longer?'

* * *

Jenny Calander walked around the computer lab after the students had all gone home for the day, defragging and performing the occasional re-ghost of partitions that some of the less skilled students had managed to somehow thoroughly trash despite the security she had installed.

Usually it was the kids that were skilled enough to run scripts to breech the computers defenses, but not skilled enough to know what to do once they had done so. 'Scripties,' she thought disdainfully. 'I am glad there are only a few of them. Such a lack of intelligence almost guarantees that they won't last long on the Hellmouth.'

It surprised her that after three years teaching in Sunnydale, she found she actually enjoyed teaching. Oh there were the usual fights over school budgets and personal fiefdoms within the school's system, but Sunnydale actually let her have a surprising amount of control over the computing curriculum and that allowed her to indulge her addiction to the rapidly changing IT industry with the schools budget.

Even the occasional snotty high school kid didn't trouble her too much. 'No,' she smiled, 'overall, there are far worse places to be than teaching a subject that you genuinely enjoy.' It also, in her opinion, provided the perfect cover for her real identity and reason for being here by allowing her instant, uninterrupted and private access to all her esoteric materials from home and other sources around the world in electronic form.

Oh, she wasn't blind to the fact that she had followed her target to a Hellmouth, or the fact that she frequently lost anywhere between five to ten percent of her class to 'accidental deaths' in any given year. But, in her mind it was incidental to her ultimate goal, the primary reason she had been placed in Sunnydale in the first place. The Beast would not escape her clan's vengeance for as long as they maintained an appropriate vigil.

Jenny stiffened and subtly started invoking the goddess of protection as she felt the presence of someone trying to sneak into her lab without her noticing, something that she had gone to great lengths to avoid by scattering subtle alarm wards throughout the area. At this time, it was unlikely to be a student and the nastier denizens of the Hellmouth would likely wait until dark so who…

"I see you have not neglected your training since you left the clan Jana," Jenny sighed in relief and turned to face the larger man that stepped into her computer lab. He held his bulky frame tall beneath a full length trench coat and his upper face was covered with a large hat. Jenny would never mistake her uncle for anyone else despite the coverings however, and she was glad for his visit. It was always nice to see a friendly face in such a demonically hostile environment as Sunnydale.

"If you moved to an active Hellmouth, I doubt that you would neglect your training either uncle. Even with the tricks that have been passed down through the Kalderash clan, I have to be careful. Running into a pack of vampires is the least dangerous thing that might happen to you in this town after dark. I am amazed the death toll isn't higher than it is already and I do not want my name added to the list."

Jenny pulled out a couple of chairs and sat down, gesturing for her uncle to join her, he was family after all and the bonds between members of the Kalderash clan were strong. "What brings you here uncle, the beast remains cursed and I have continued to report on the activities of the local wildlife and demon hunters alike. Even the council presence here doesn't achieve much more than culling the weaker creatures that inhabit the night."

Jenny watched carefully as her uncle nodded thoughtfully, as if wondering how to approach an uncomfortable subject, for someone so senior in her clan to arrive without notice could only signal that something very big had either happened or was about to happen. Something that was likely to directly impact both her and her clan.

"Tell me about this place Jana," her uncle implored after a moment of silence. His gravelly voice gave a hint of his concern and of uncertainty.

Jenny shrugged her shoulders flippantly, she had after all included everything in her reports. Something must have happened to worry her clan leaders though. "The chaotic mystical convergence that permeates this town and attracts demons like bee's to honey is centered on a Hellmouth located roughly under the school library. As sought after by the demon population as it is, I have never investigated any further. Still, it is no wonder that the beast found a place like this to flee, even if his demon is suppressed by the soul curse. If there was a place that either directly or indirectly acted to strengthen the demon and weaken the curse, it would be here."

He uncle grunted, gesturing for her to continue.

"The major opposition to the demonic population simply overwhelming this place and claiming it for themselves is a council team consisting of a Watcher and an active slayer, one that has survived surprisingly long. Although, from the sounds of recent events, she may not last much longer." Jenny frowned in thought before pressing on with her report for the elder. She had already reported the rumors she had heard about the pack of Skilosh demons and if he wanted to ask more detailed questions, she could answer them then.

"I dislike the fact that the watcher has begun to press students into helping him, or the fact that he is getting so close to the beast but, I am not considered close enough to the group to effect operational matters. It is a council affair and it would be disastrous if he found out that I was Kalderash."

Her uncle leant forward, placing his chin into a hand in thought. "The clan seers' have seen the beasts pain lessening and a possible future that involves the curse shattering entirely. Even worse, they have seen winds of change so strong that they cloud the future of this place."

"The council has become weak and irrelevant; I am considering moving a stronger presence into the area. Since you have been monitoring this place there has been a noticeable increase in activity despite the council's intervention, something is building here and the Kalderash must be apart of that – this the seers have seen."

Jenny frowned in thought, event though their number had been increasing over the last few hundred years, the Kalderash were not as numerous as anyone in the clan of gypsies would like. To move a greater presence to the active Hellmouth indicated a great change in the clan elders thinking. It could even potentially lead to open conflict between the clan and the watchers council, something that had not happened for centuries.

"Very well," her uncle grunted. "You have greater situational knowledge of this area – you can be point for this operation. Be ready."

Jenny could only nod, stunned. As knowledgeable as she was in demonology and magic, she came from one of the less known branches of the clan. As such, she had never been expected to amount to much among her people's hierarchy – she had been glad receive the task of overseeing the clans vengeance on the vampiric beast that had attacked generations ago. It would she felt, showcase her abilities and lead her higher into the clans workings.

To have given such a promotion so quickly was stunning. She only mumbled a farewell as her uncle disappeared before jumping up and preparing for her clans arrival. If a greater presence of Kalderash was making itself felt on the Hellmouth there were things she would need to do to smooth their transition.

Unnoticed by either Jenny Calander or her uncle was a line of ants streaming into a non-existent crack in the wall and even if they had noticed, it is doubtful wither would have understood their significance.

* * *

Harry walked through Sunnydale with a spring in his step and shoulders unburdened by tension for the first time since he had found himself ripped from his home and into a time and place not of his choosing. Since the fight with the possession demon and his subsequent rebuilding of all his mental defenses, he had felt more at ease with the body he had found himself bound to.

Oh, CSE's industrious efforts to rebuild it to optimum strength probably had a fair to do with it, but there was also the residual personality differences that needed to be resolved between two very different mindsets after his arrival here. It was entirely too simple to simple to say that his magical and more experienced and dominate personality would trump the muggle teenager's relatively simple mind entirely, if that were the case- Voldemorts original attempt to possess him back in the day may well have succeeded.

No, rebuilding his broken defenses had allowed a far more thorough merging. As far as he could tell, he was still who he always was, focused, ruthless, driven, cunning and incredulous how the human race had survived millennia of warfare with demon kind. The weak society that they had build held no ruthlessness, no drive and little sense of self preservation.

'Ahhh, it doesn't matter,' he thought to himself 'it will just make it easier for someone competent to take charge. Still, have a fair way to go before I completely rebuild my powerbase though.' The pervasive and chaotic feel of the Hellmouth that oppressed Sunnydale in its entirety made him grin in anticipation 'Yes, this will be the fine location for a future capital. From here my armies will sweep though anything that stands before its might – in my name.'

Now he had eradicated any lingering issues with the possession of this body he was looking forward to the next stage of his plans. He would no longer be able to expand further without attracting the notice of bigger players than he had faced down so far – but that was alright, he was looking forward to the challenge, he was getting tired of the week vampiric packs looking for loot.

What he needed was a real challenge to bite his teeth on, even the events he had planned for later that night wasn't going to be a challenge, just exhausting.

In fact, lately it had been too easy and that worried him. When things became too easy, he began to look for plans within plans and he became paranoid. The slayer, the great foot soldier of humanity had broken surprisingly easily, and he had not even had to do anything.

His plan for the slayer may have to be moved up a little as a result but that was alright, Harry thought with his grin widened. The rest of her support crew, full of concern for the injured slayer and the threat posed by a new player on the Hellmouth had allowed any suspicions of his behavior too lapse into the back of there mind.

After all, he had been spending less time involving himself with the clique and none of them even suspected that the watchers council did not have a monopoly on demon hunting. Even the older watcher had allowed his suspicions too settle for the moment. Harry laughed at the irony, 'no one suspected the doughnut guy after all.'

Lost in his thoughts and his walk around the Hellmouth, he was surprised when CSE seized control off his brain functions and dropped him like a stone. Even then, the projectile that was intended for his head ricocheted off his lower jaw, shattering the hardened bone like it was a pane of glass. Several follow up shots completely demolished the brick wall behind him as he rolled for cover already sorting through the live streaming data from the tilled roof eight hundred meters away.

At this time of night, and as balmy as it was, slipping a few of his sensor drones disguised as common mosquitoes passed unnoticed to the surprisingly human looking would be assassin.

Video and sound from different view points and recommended courses of actions all streamed through his head as CSE re-prioritized its processes to defensive and offensive operations. His skin hardened and a small mist of nanites clouded around his skin awaiting further orders from the AI.

Leaping up and running a zigzagged path in the direction of his attacker he growled in frustration. 'TONIGHT, of all nights,' he had plans for tonight and he had been carefully conserving his magical strength and energy stores to pull them off. He simply could not afford an extended magically exhausting conflict right now. Otherwise, this fight would probably already be over, massive collateral damage non-withstanding, there were no witnesses to be concerned about after all.

Barely dodging the next round of fire, he extended his limited sensor net to ensure he wasn't double teamed by any potential partner of hers. If his date at the Whitehouse fell though then his plans would have to be postponed until another opportunity arose. 'I can't afford this now, I'll tear her apart slowly and painfully for this impudence. Still, I was complaining about how easy it was until now.'

Harry winced as a bullet tore through his shoulder despite the small net of nannites bleeding the momentum of the projectile before impact and the hardened area of skin providing body amour. 'Those are not ordinary bullets, I will have to end this now and hope that I don't deplete my reserves too much.'

Apparating behind the sniper he allowed some of his magical power to bleed through to his eyes as he knocked her from her nest and onto the road. "That hurt," he growled at the woman as she reached for a secondary weapon, proving that she was not to be underestimated and that her training was second to none. Not giving her a chance he conjured a hail of nails, effectively pinning her to the road, already he could feel CSE working to repair the damage done to his body.

Where the bullets bit, he could feel residue demonic energy acting to inhibit healing and promote disease, infection. It was a vicious combination unless you had centuries of advanced medical knowledge to combat the simple but deadly combination.

"You know," he said calmly to the woman who, despite the pain she was clearly in, was still attempting to pull herself from the large nails pinning her to the bitumen. "I planned a large relaxing stroll around Sunnydale, to relish the powerful mystical convergence that seems to hang like a thick fog around this town and what do I get."

Pulling a knife from his pocket, even conjuring used magical energy that might be needed later on, he reached down and cut the silver ring from the woman's middle finger, she didn't scream but struggled more furiously against the nails. "Order of Teraka, and fairly high up as well. I wonder who hired you." He had enough history with assassins and their orders to know that she wouldn't talk and he didn't have the time or energy for a proper interrogation that would no doubt avoiding any traps hidden within her mind.

It didn't really matter who hired her though, before the night was out he would no doubt have more powerful enemies. Shaking his head at how close she actually can to succeeding in taking him out, he reached down and cut her throat, he would leave the body intact as a warning to the rest of her team. Next time he would have ample time to play if they decided to pursue their contract.

Shaking his head at the waste of time, he lifted an eyebrow at the war cry coming from down the street where he had killed the sniper. 'Not another assassin then, they would have been trained better than to so easily give up the element of surprise.'

Allowing even more power to shine from his eyes he eyed the charging threat with distain, even as he tried to determine who or what it was and what level of threat they offered.

It was another human looking girl, younger than the sniper. Reaching out his magical aura to engulf the girl and flicking his knife at her to delay her charge he stepped back in surprise. This girl was a Slayer, 'but there is supposed to only be one,' he thought in confusion.

"You killed her you monster, die," the girl yelled as she dodged his knife and attacked him with a sharpened wooden stake.

Now Harry was intrigued, casually reaching into her mind and brushing her surface thoughts, he became aware of her rigorous training and mental indoctrination. The feeling of endless hours of regimented training and studies even before her calling broadcast loudly as he easily beat back her attack using a combination of conjurations and hard body strikes.

As regimented as her childhood had been, he doubted she would be as easily broken as the current slayer, or as useful to his plans even if he had the time, no he thought as he looked up at the stars. It was time to end this and it seemed he would finally get a slayer to study without impacting his plans too drastically. 'Another would just be called,' he thought knowingly, 'and they might even be of more use to me,'.

An anticlimactic wave of his hand, a flash of sickly green light and a steady knife thrust and it was over. Overkill, even a slayer could not survive being hit by such a curse. Shaking his head at the wasted opportunity and he glanced over to where a silvery screen was enveloping the dead assassin rapidly breaking the body down and harvesting it for information for later analysis and energy for tonight's activities, restoring what he had just wasted killing the slayer and the assassin.

It would be nearly one am by the time he left Sunnydale, leaving only a green Cerebrus and the snipers silver ring glinting sharply in the dawn light from her copse marked the fate of the dead Slayer.

* * *

Bob Daily flicked his cigarette to the side, spilling ash all over the pristine lawns of the Whitehouse grounds and scowled in annoyance at the line up of black vehicles at the gates just behind the security cordon. 'Who was in charge of this disaster anyway', he asked himself with a sneer. 'There was no way to keep such an attack low profile now, no matter what was said to the screaming pack of journalists, those neatly lined up cars, all shining with polished uniformity just screamed federal agencies, more than one.'

The conspiracy nuts would be howling all sorts of stories based on the tight security and the lack of information right now, hell – anyone who was watching the live feeds from anyone of the channels covering the story wouldn't help but feel deeply intimidated by the shear number of agencies present, not to mention the military patrols sweeping the grounds.

And he doubted that they would be far wrong in their guesses either, in the days since September 11, 2001 the American people had become used to, indeed hypersensitive, to the growing threat of extremism and terrorism that swept the globe. At home and abroad, it was a scary time to be alive. 'But then,' he thought cynically 'when isn't it.'

It was perhaps a good thing that he had been called so early into the investigation, with so many agencies and the military involved to boot, they needed a hard headed basted with enough credibility with the military to crack some heads, split some lips and put some pounce's overly small nuts into a vice. It was a job that he was well suited to.

"Fuck here we go again I'm getting too old for this shit," Bob muttered under his breath as he dragged his limp leg under the police tape and flashed his badge to the guards. Even though he was good at his job, indeed he liked it – particularly when some bureaucratic hero tried to stand up to him, the crime scenes became worse not better with age.

Almost immediately upon breaching the security cordon, an impossibly young agent in a neatly pressed suit approached him, no doubt to fill him in on the case. Young, idealistic, and inexperienced agents were the worst. They reminded him too much of the reason he first joined the agencies. 'A few years in the job shout fix them right up,' he thought sourly, 'then they might even aspire to my exhulted position.'

"Bob…Bob Daily. I am glad you could make it." Bob grinned as the young agent tried not to cough as he blew stale cigarette smoke into the young agents face. The young ones never had the guts to fight back, it may be cruel but it was a tough world out there and it was getting tougher.

"We, have CIA, NSA, and FBI on the ground processing the scene and military backup since they caught the last of the attack. It appears to be…" Bob cut the junior agent off before he could embarrass himself further. Now he was just wasting precious time and for all his games and cynical reasoning he would always be a patriot. No matter how life had chewed him up and spat him out.

Besides, he had already been briefed on the way over – probably far more thoroughly than this junior g-man could.

"Enough boy, I will co-ordinate with the military and the agency heads when I get to them, for now walk me through the scene." Even with all that he had seen and done in his life, he never, NEVER, thought he would be referring to the Whitehouse of the United States of America as a crime scene – it was surreal, and horrifying.

A tour was necessary before he got to the agency heads however, it would give him a gut feel as to motive, perhaps background and training, even numbers. The evidence to support his suppositions came later and they DID almost always, support his initial gut feel. It was what made him so good at his job.

"Of course sir," the young agent stuttered out, leading him further into the grounds of neatly pruned trees and meticulously mowed lawns.

"We're thinking it was an insider's job of some kind, a single person, or small group of well trained people who were intimately familiar with all the Whitehouse's security systems and redundancies."

Bob took a deep breath through his cigarette as he struggled to keep up with the agents pace. His bung leg was not as good as it used to be, but he would be damned if he showed any sign of aging, of weakness. He did tune out the young mans repetition of the agencies initial findings however – they were often worth squat at such an early stage.

"At just after one am, all power and communications were cut, even the backups failed to engage, leaving the Whitehouse essentially in lockdown. Techies are still going through all the electronic data they can to see if the can figure out how it was done, but for now…" The young man shrugged with the frustration of not knowing, "it's like they knew the all the security overrides and just shut it down."

"Whoever did this though, knew what they were doing, they knew what the potential response time from the nearest military base would be and they acted to ensure the most amount of terror. The president was the only one left alive – quite deliberately I am told."

Bob grunted and the young man continued as he led the older detective to the first sight being photographed and marked, he could immediately see the scattered empty shell casings from the guards weapons and the blood splatter pattern even though the body had long been removed. It didn't seem to have helped him but he had been shooting at something.

"The forensic people have already told us how it happened from the order in which the security and the staffers died. Whoever did this cut a bloody path through the grounds with seeming indifference to the heavy security, the automated defenses and the Special Forces attached to the presidents security detail. They died too closely together to determine accurate time of death from the bodies of course but the congealed blood coating the walls, lawn, floors tells their own story."

Bob carefully bagged what was left of his cigarette so as not to further disturb the crime scene and followed young agent to the next section of lawn that was scattered with small plastic numbers. "All the casings belonged to the guard's personal weaponry; they were clearly shooting at something."

"How were they killed, where the guards killed in the same manner as the staffers? Was any weapon found?" Bob bit out the questions, but by the amount of blood he already suspected the answers as he entered the Whitehouse proper. The agent however had been correct; you could map the attacker's path by the fallen bodies – what a mess.

"Every single person killed, from staffers, guards and techies were killed by the same bladed weapon in the same manner as you have already been seen. The damage you can see throughout the building was from the small arms fire of the guards - that is still being checked."

Bob nodded, still following the path of the attacker or attackers; it must have been terrifying for the people present at the Whitehouse at that time. No power, no communications, just the sound of death and dying and the inevitability of being next. It definitely spoke volumes about those responsible. Striking almost effortlessly at the very symbol of US supremacy, disabling or bypassing every effort of defense and letting the president live in an almost pitying gesture.

If they could strike here, where wasn't it possible for them to strike? Once the story broke, it would create mass panic and forever dispel the myth of US supremacy. It was a well planned and meticulously rationed attack. That was a very dangerous combination and one not seen amongst the many extremist groups for a long time.

The possibility of a new player on the scene was VERY bad news and the fact that no one had claimed responsibility was even worse, though it was still early days.

"We think we may have caught a break however - do you see this fire pattern?" The young man pointed to a bunched series of machine gun fire. Bob smiled grimly, 'it looks like at least one of the guards managed to keep his head – good'

"It looks like some biological material residue, around one of the damaged regions. It is being checked but if we managed to wing one of the basted's, we will have his DNA." Bob nodded at the possibility and continued past the damaged wall panel, it was a good lead but with how smoothly this operation had been planned and executed he couldn't help but feel that such an event was unlikely. Still, even more careful murders had been upset by a smaller mistake than leaving behind a poorly cleaned bloodspot.

Bob shook his head, he had seen enough. This beautiful building had become the site of a bloodbath, a well planned and executed bloodbath. Heads were going to roll for this one, a random bombing MIGHT be missed but such a large operation such as this – and he doubted the invasion of a small country would have been as detailed – should have raised so many red flags that it had the agencies talking about increased chatter for years.

"I've seen enough, is the president available for an interview now."

Bob didn't even wait for a reply as he headed in the direction of the heavily secured room that the president was staying in. The medics had already done what they could for the panic and shock, now it was time for answers.

He would not roll out his usual routine however, he might not have voted for the guy but he was still the president. Moving though three different check points Bob finally made it to the lone survivor of the night.

"Mr President," he greeted as he entered the room. It was a smaller side room to the oval office he knew. "Are you up to answering some question?"

The president nodded distractedly, "They killed Dave you know. How could they kill Dave? HOW, WHY!!"

Bob sighed, out of every one who had died, his security, advisors, secretaries, he was worried about Dave? Sometimes stress and grief could do strange things to people.

"Could you recount what happened, in your own time." Bob tried to be understanding, he hoped it didn't come out like t sounded but he was used to busting balls not dealing with victims, no matter how important. Damn politics.

"It was…surreal, the lights went out and I couldn't contact my secretary when the switch didn't work. Then I heard gunfire – it all happened so fast."

"Of course I was concerned when the gunfire continued and begun to get closer but, with an army base so close, and so much security around the Whitehouse, how could I ever have expected what was to come. We should have been able to hold off a small army. Even unprepared, holding the attack off long enough for the base to respond should have been well within our capabilities."

"After a surprising amount of time, a guard came to escort me to a safer location. I didn't recognize him but with my guards rotating so often these days I shrugged it off as he hustled me to the oval office. I was spooked, the gunfire was still getting closer in erratic bursts and I began to hear the screams of the dying."

"This way Mr. President, This way," President Jackson chuckled nervously, "It will be safe this way."

The president reached with shaking hands for what looked, and smelled from across the room, to be a very stiff drink. "That was when I saw it. I didn't even hear or see the guard leave, when I turned around he was just…gone."

"I never thought they would finish dying, terrible, it was terrible. Then the reserves arrived."

Bob Daily looked through the open door at what the president was referring to and saw what was scorched into the presidential desk. A VERY detailed sketch of a three headed dog and a phase, just a single phase. "The world is older than you know and it's history far darker."

'Great,' he thought with dread, 'I just can't wait for that meeting with the section heads now.' Because now he new without a doubt that they were dealing with someone who was calculating, reasoned and knew exactly what they were doing.


	5. Angels and Snakes

5. Angels and Snakes 

**Title:** Chaos on the Hellmouth  
**Author name:** Kunglou

**Author email:** AU  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** Harry Potter had fielded and led vast armies, manipulated intergalactic wars and raised mankind to the heights of first ones but he had not actually existed until a chaos mage had sabotaged a Halloween on the hell mouth.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own either BTVS or Harry Potter and claim no rights to the copyrighted material. I am making no money off this story.

**Author notes: Massively AU, OC, HP: A matter or Perception/BtVS/Bab5**

**If you are unfamiliar with the perception series I really recommend that you read the first two pieces for this piece to make sense. Keep in mind that Xander was possessed, his memories merged with the more dominant personality of Harry's.**

Ch5 – Angels and Snakes

"'Tis an old saying, the Devil lurks behind the cross. All is not gold that glitters. From the tail of the plough, Bamba was made King of Spain; and from his silks and riches was Rodrigo cast to be devoured by the snakes."

Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

Lance Jackson swept into the rapidly setup field boardroom eagerly. It had been three days since he had been attacked and the residents of the Whitehouse massacred in a seemingly flawlessly executed plan and FINALLY he and the rest of the surviving members of the executive branch of his government were about to get some answers.

Select members of the armed forces were also present to facilitate rapid deployment of troops if that were necessary. In fact, their location was camouflaged within one of many field exercises being conducted around the country. No fly zones had been established and their satellites were continuously scanning homeland for signs of emerging threats. Full connectivity to the battle network along with real time access to the multiple groups still working on gaining some answers had also been fitted into the large tent that housed the boardroom.

Relatively few knew of their location, and it was hoped that their misdirection and heightened threat alert of DEFCON 2 would deter any further attacks. The only reason that he hadn't ordered DEFCON 1 was the lack of answers, who had attacked them, what was there capability for retaliation and what was their motivation. He had run on a policy of relative isolation and until he knew more he would not change that. In fact he had personally withdrawn the last of his troops from Europe and the Middle East. It was not a decision he would lightly reverse.

Forensics had finished running samples, the techie's had finished analyzing and the agencies had gotten their heads together to chew some fat and establish some probable threat ratings. He was sure that they would continue to spend weeks or even months sifting through previously ignored chatter hoping to find answers but for now, they had some answers for him.

'THREE DAYS,' Lance growled to himself as he thought about the pandering and goose stepping he had had to engage in to deal with the countries media outlets ever increasing and ridiculous conspiracy theories in response to what information HAD leaked. What was even worse, some of their theories hit entirely too close to the mark and when combined with the military exercises he had ordered in the Pacific and Gulf and he had been facing a diplomatic storm.

China and the EU had taken the rumors of an attack as a sign of weakness and were days away from starting a trade war which the US could not afford and the Middle East had raised oil prices leading to pressure that just gave him a headache to think about. If things were not resolved soon then all the economic ground he had made over his term would be lost.

Worse, his primary advisor, the one he had relied on even more than the rest of his pea brained staff, was dead and for the foreseeable future the Hill would be distracted by the power vacuum resulting from the overnight massacre three nights before. He would turn the country of those responsible into a slag pit when he found out who was responsible he thought with a frustrated snarl.

Absently nodding at the chief of staffs and the various heads of agencies that sat around the large oak table alongside his surviving cabinet, now the most powerful people in the country until the power vacuum created by the devastating attack was filled, he demanded answers. Oh there were a few trusted senators, but as far as possible, he was trying to keep information contained until he knew more and could add some spin to the flow of information.

"Tell me you have FINALY got something ladies and gentlemen." He growled out allowing his frustration to leak through. It was a risk having such a gathering, but the secrecy of the location and the attendees along with the massive build up of defensive military spending and capability should have reduced the risk of a secondary strike to almost zero. It did not pass his notice however that a strike on the Whitehouse should not have been possible either.

Still, the alternative had been a video linkup and with the ease that the attackers had breached the Whitehouse's electronic defenses it was deemed prudent to meet face to face, no records and with all precautions taken to ensure the safety of the delegation.

"Before we start though I want to know exactly what happened. By now I imagine you have managed to fill in some holes in the timeline. Let's eliminate some of the rumors that have been emerging from the Hill and deconstruct events a little shall we?" he asked leaning back in his chair and capturing the rest of the attendees in his glare as he waited for some answers.

An elderly man with a strong limp and a gruff exterior and firmly entrenched scowl lines stood up in response to the Presidents question. Clearly expecting the question and having come prepared for it, he dragged himself to a plasma screen on the far wall that held an image of the floor plan of the Whitehouse and surrounding grounds and turned to address the rest of the room. President Jackson frowned at the man trying to remember his name, Bob something, he had known that the agencies had brought someone in to coordinate their efforts but he would not have expected one of their own to address him at this particular gathering.

Shrugging internally, he settled in to hear the man's presentation, he had heard good things about the man, from what little he HAD heard, and if he got himself some answers he did not especially care who delivered them.

"Mr. President. Your security detail failed. Your countries electronic and technological advantage was bypassed. Your guards' superior training was ground to nothing under seemingly overwhelming force and your assumed intelligence high ground was reduced to meaningless digital chatter. The pond scum responsible for this is probably laughing at us even now - laughing and planning where next and when to strike. I have no doubt that they will; it is just a matter of time."

Bob Daily, Lance suddenly remembered, mentally placing the man. Never afraid to pull his punches, verbal or otherwise, even to his superiors. It is what stymied his career and made him so cynically blunt, only his effectiveness allowed him to get so far and placed him in the hot seat now, he was simply the best man for the job. There could be no room for niceties now. Watching his intelligence and military heads squirm he waved for the man to continue.

The grief and panic that had seized him in the hours immediately after the attack had long been replaced by a strong desire for revenge, revenge and a strong sign to show that even though they had withdrawn from the world stage they still were not someone you wanted to mess with.

Throughout his presidency, he and Dave had done everything they could to build their nation into the superpower they knew it deserved to be. To be attacked after so much had been achieved, to have their technological and economic strengths laid low so easily was the worst kind of kick in the guts.

Yes, he definitely wanted revenge but for now he would be satisfied with answers.

"At 0102 this morning the Whitehouse's security and power systems started maintenance routines and powered down. Now, normally the redundancies would kick in to replace the operation of the primary systems but according to the system logs, the redundancies continued reading a green light from the primaries through the duration of the attack."

Bobs gruff growl rang out amongst the quiet and attentive crowd. Everyone wanted answers, and they wanted to know where they could go from here.

"Even with a combination of administrative passwords, which we have confirmed the attacker entered, this should have been impossible. A password, I would like to remind you, which would have been held be separate people for security reasons. "

"How the HELL did they get administrative access to our systems?" The president interrupted in surprise and no small amount of anger, half rising from his seat at the suggestion that the attack had come from one of their own.

"We are…..uncertain. The system permissions seem to go in circles and the techies are still going through the electronics looking for electronic backdoors in the hardware but with all the key systems manufactured at home that is unlikely."

"The original holders of the old passwords were part of the body count so we cannot rule out there involvement either."

Lance sat back down in his chair and flicked a flat gaze around the table, "you don't know?"

"No, Mr. President." Bob replied with a deepening scowl.

Shaking his head at his deepening dread he waved for the man to continue.

"It was at that time when a small group entered the grounds in this area." Lance watched as a fairly large area of the Whitehouse grounds lit up followed by a sequence of red X's.

"We know this because of the systematic way in which he worked through the grounds. No other signs of entry could be found. As you know, you were the only one left alive from the attack." Bob's voice had become gruffer and filled with grief as he detailed the attack and he could tell that lack of answers deeply unsettled the man. With all the resources they continued to poor into the investigation they were still left with more questions than answers.

Unanswered questions and a large death toll.

Lance stared uncomfortably at the trail of blinking X's that trailed the floor plans of the symbol of America's democracy and power. He had a feeling that the news was only going to get worse.

"Your security detail was made up of the best armed and trained people we had, cutting edge weaponry, veterans of multiple conflicts. They were GOOD. But what we think was a small group of well trained men wielding only small bladed weaponry cut through them like a scythe through wheat. A seemingly impossible scenario, certainly it should not have been possible without raising more of an alarm. Worse, men unknown to panic even in the most desperate situations showed signs of hysteria and poorly coordinated action in the defense of the Whitehouse and the inhabitants at the time. I have no doubt that this group left you alive as a sign of their superiority and ability to strike even the most well defended targets unhindered."

Lance pondered Bob's assessment as this time the military heads shifted uncomfortably in their seats. It should have taken a small army with heavy weapons support to successfully assault the Whitehouse's defenses like that, in the time it had taken, even with power and electronic surveillance disabled.

"It was like we were invaded by a bunch of fucking ghosts," Bob growled out as pictures of the massacre flashed on the screen. "In fact the only break we got was a small blood spatter pattern where we think one of our guys managed to wing one of the bastard's. DNA profiling, gene profiling, even hormone analysis revealed. NOTHING."

Some scientific graphs appeared on the screen, "Male, Human. Somehow any further identifying information was scrubbed before we could collect it. Even the labs are unsure how in the time before the military arrived."

"By 0200 it was all over, a strike force was onsite, the airspace was locked down and investigators were called in. We don't even know how they left the scene; we had the grounds locked down TIGHT. It was like they just walked out through our people or vanished into thin fuckin air. I doubt anyone will be able to spin this disaster as anything other than a FUBAR, Mr. President. We are still reviewing chatter but we doubt we will find anything useful."

Lance couldn't help but agree. An attack of this magnitude on home soil would be devastating to America's image around the world once the magnitude of the attack was known. It was only a matter of time before it got out too; too many civilians had died for anything less than full disclosure.

"So, what do we know? Who has the capability to do what they just did?" Lance bit out at the table trying unsuccessfully to contain his rage and frustration with the situation. "I just listened to a report on how an enemy had managed to plan a major attack on our soil, execute it flawlessly and escape under our noses without leaving any identifying information. WHAT INFORMATION DO WE HAVE?"

"The … agghh … signature burnt into the presidential desk." Lance Jackson turned his glare onto a small group of senators, intelligence officers and generals that had bunched up at the end of the table timidly behind Senator Kinsey as he spoke out. "We may know what it is referring to. Although the source is being debated."

"Well…" Lance, gestured at the plasma screen with a glower wondering why they had not said anything sooner. They had had three days to co-ordinate all their information sharing. More than enough time in his books.

He liked Senator Kinsey, even though his now dead advisor Dave had not, the man held a political ruthlessness that rivaled his own and throughout the course of the investigation so far he had wondered if any of the black projects the senator had access too would bring any answers. Everything seemed connected in there line of business, particularly when they reached the heights that they had.

Nodding in thanks to the gruff investigator, he watched thoughtfully as Bob dragged himself to his chair just as large crack filled the tent. It was only a jet breaking the sound barrier but the nervousness of the room caused everyone to jump or flinch in their chair. If the attackers had vanished into thin air, what was stopping them from appearing FROM thin air? It was an unspoken question keeping them all on edge.

"We… Mr. President… we have been less than honest." The aged senator admitted uncertainly, speaking for the group, as he shambled towards the screen and inserted a small memory card. Lance was unsure how much of it was an act, after all, Kinsey was a consummate politician.

"Certain programs were being investigated and evaluated in the interests of national security. Once they were fully evaluated we were going to completely disclose them to you, along with their significance."

Lance grunted in skepticism, wondering if that was true, it was certainly not what he would have done and he had a feeling that the only reason he was finding about them now was the recent attack on American soil.

"We believe one of them may be the source of this attack. Believe us when we say that had we known of the full threat they possessed we would have notified you immediately."

President Jackson's glower darkened as he considered the senator and the rest of the group that shifted uncomfortably at the man's words. He was familiar with the man's habit of becoming involved in black projects of doubtful legality but he had allowed limited oversight on the condition that anything truly significant was brought to his attention. There was also the fact that his projects occasionally yielded some very valuable gems and he had played his hand in that sandbox himself when he was younger. So he had some sympathy, it was almost a prerequisite for anyone who hoped to be president.

Some of the other people in the group sitting behind Kinsey however genuinely surprised him and he thought it far more likely that they had gotten in too deep to fast before realizing it. Not that he would go any easier on them if indeed one of their projects had resulted in this attack. Limited accountability was just that, Limited.

The rest of the table also looked decidedly unhappy, after all, he was not the only one to know of the senator's reputation, just one of the few that didn't mind so much.

The senator sighed unhappily as he brought up a picture a small American town, "this is Sunnydale California. A few years back we became aware of some statistical anomalies that were unique to the town and which went back as far as we have recorded data, to the Spanish settlers in fact. Abnormally high death rates for suspect reasons, unparallel political and judicial corruption and suspicious migration data, in this day and age, unheard off."

"On further investigation we became aware of the cause, a hostile sub-culture of semi- intelligent beings that viewed humanity as little more than cattle and frequently feed on the blood of Sunnydale's citizens were responsible."

Lance frowned as another picture replaced the ones of Sunnydale. It depicted a man of middle age with severe facial deformities and elongated incisors and yellowed iris's. Though interesting, it still not tell him why Kinsey had become interested and why they had not just treated it as a law enforcement issue.

"They believe themselves to be vampires and we had intended to set up a base to capture and study the validity of these claims. We know that there subculture involves an alternative history where their demonic masters ruled earth and reduced humanity to the cattle, a food source, they believe we are and that their members display advanced physical capabilities that held enormous military applications."

Lance nodded in understanding. That was the link – of course.

"Our plans were at least a year, perhaps two, away from completion and we had no idea, despite the infiltration of this cult into the local government and the judiciary, that they had anywhere near the capabilities to pull off an attack like this. Needless to say our plans have been accelerated and a full report will be made available to you on our progress Mr. President."

Lance frowned at the grumbling amongst the cabinet. He could understand the skepticism behind this vampire cult, but in his experience anything that Kinsey thought worth his time inevitably yielded dividends, both good and bad at times. He suspected there was far more behind this cult than just a bunch of doped up loonies with surprising clout.

Another picture flashed up on the screen, this time of the calling card that had been left on the presidential desk of the oval office.

"The combination of the depiction of Cerberus, the monstrous three-headed dog with a snake for a tail who according to mythology guarded the gate to hell and the reference to 'the world is older than you know and it's history far darker' are very pointed signs that this cult is involved. It is well known for using the different world mythologies to further indoctrinate its members."

By now the majority of the people in the room wore expressions of either skepticism or anger. Lance Jackson held an expression that combined the two, 'why' he asked himself 'was I just hearing about this now?' He wasn't as skeptical as some of the other in the room because he knew Senator Kinsey too well, critical information was being left out and he WOULD have it. However now was not the time and he was interested in what other project he had not known about that may have been responsible for the attack.

Senator Kinsey cleared his throat before displaying a picture of a large metal ring bordered by strange symbols. "There is another group that uses mythology to disguise their actions however that have me concerned. Some of you might recognize the Stargate. Originally discovered in 1928 we were unable, until recently, to identify its purpose.

"What you may not be aware off is that last year an archeologist by the name of Daniel Jackson determined that it was cable of creating a wormhole to a similar device on another planet allowing for instantaneous travel to another planet. An expedition lead by Jack O'Neil went through the Stargate, discovered evidence of technologically advanced and hostile alien life on the other side and nuked them."

With the look of barely constrained distaste, Kinsey started handing out O'Neils profile and mission report.

"Despite attempting a large number of other combinations the gate would not establish a wormhole anywhere else and the gate was put into storage. What I did not find out about until after the attack on the Whitehouse," Lance watched in amusement as Senator Kinsey glared at another Senator with in the group at the end of the table. It seemed that Kinsey's fingers were not the only fingers dappling in assorted pies. "Was that it had been reactivated, members of our armed forces kidnapped and Jack O'Neil is once again leading a mission through the gate in rescue."

Before Lance could respond to the Senators nervously delivered summary of two black ops projects that had the potential to have massively blown up in all their faces, he was interrupted by a derogatory snort from Bob Daily. "Is that it?" he asked with a derisive sneer.

"We are beaten in our own game and it is either aliens or some sort of demon from under the bed. No wonder we are in so much trouble. I still reckon it could be the Russians, ever since the end of the cold war they have been looking for global relevance and don't get me started about China's delusions of grandeur."

In response the entire table started to irrupt in recriminations and counter recriminations. The Military was blaming intelligence, intelligence was blaming the techies and the techies were blaming intelligence and the military.

And he still did not know who he could bomb into a slag pit. "Aliens and demons indeed." Lance shook his head, a private meeting with Kinsey's little group would definitely be in the cards and soon.

"Enough," He roared as a chair went flying into a wall, a clear demonstration how much stress and tension had eroded the delegates self control. "Kinsey, I want to review all your information personally. Make sure ALL the chief of staffs are there. If you're a correct, we are facing a potentially deadly war on two fronts. A war in which we lack even the barest intelligence and IF O'Neil returns, I WANT to meet him with all priority."

"This council will meet again in three days, we will decide a best course of action then. Now what do we tell the public before someone leaks the story of the century?"

Buffy almost bounced towards the Sunnydale school library, almost eager to resume her slayer duties, in a drastic contrast to the dread and hysterical fear she had been feeling just days before. 'Oh' she thought with a pleased grin 'the dread and fear is still there, but more than covered by hope and confidence.' For the first time for months she felt that things were looking up and not headed into the abyss of despair.

For the first time in weeks she was not focused on her near death experiences, a slayer's short lifespan, or the seemingly overwhelming odds she faced on a nightly basis, instead she was lost in the afterglow of the night before.

Buffy smiled as she recalled the romantic evening she had shared with her boyfriend on the ice rink, after Angel had discovered her love for the sport, and the demon attack that followed had not in anyway diminish the night. 'In fact,' she thought as her smile widened, 'it went a long way to restore my lost confidence and provided the perfect opportunity for her to deepen her relationship with her boyfriend by taking it do the next level.'

'Not even the disappointment of finding him gone in the morning could dampen my mood this morning,' Buffy thought as she brush passed the 'Closed for Stock take' sign and flounced into the library.

"Hey guys," She announced to the group ignoring the extraordinary spread of archaic weaponry across the libraries tables and her Watchers worried frown. She was far too lost in last night's afterglow to be too concerned.

Xander was in the corner furthest from the door as usual these days, nose stuck in a book and she couldn't help notice that he had buffed up some - nice. Willow was chatting excitingly to Miss Calendar, and that had surprised her big time when she had found out about the Techno-pagan, and Giles well…

"Thank god you alright Buffy, we have a VERY big problem and the sooner you're out of town the better. Somewhere easily defended, a castle would be nice."

"Yeah, good morning to you too Giles," she drawled as she shoved some weapons to the side and bounced onto the table. "If you're worried about a big ugly human looking demon wearing a bronze ring like this one," she started flicking him the ring she took of the demons body for Giles to identify later, "don't. I bagged him last night, he won't be troubling anyone."

"Oh and thanks for the big vote of confidence by the way," she snarked sarcastically.

"Yes, well," Giles muttered fumbling with the bronze ring and slightly taken aback by her sudden change in attitude, "this merely confirms how much trouble we are in. This ring signifies that a member of the Order of Teraka is in town. A relatively lowly placed member but still very dangerous."

"Eh he wasn't that bad," Buffy muttered looking around at all the weaponry and the very animated conversation between the two witches before catching a knowing look from Xander, Weird.

"I am afraid Buffy, that he is, or rather his team is. The Order of Teraka is an assassin's guild that dates back to Solomon and if they have ever failed to get their target it has not been recorded. They never send a single member to do a job, a team of three is far more common. What is worse, it appears that we have two teams operating in Sunnydale." Giles slumped into a chair and the concern lines on his face deepened. "Thank god the lesser team is targeting you and not the more deadly one, I don't want to know who they are targeting either – a silver level team is unheard of and I am not looking for trouble."

"I still say that if they are anything like the first guy, why should I worry." In her mind she could see Angel helping her take down the assassin with ease.

"Because last night a slayer was found gutted like a pig, isn't that right watcher."

"Wha…" Buffy startled, glancing up at the book stacks were Angel immerged with his vamperic face fully exposed and a cigarette stuck in the corner of his smirking lips.

The conversation between Willow and Miss Calendar had halted and the computer teacher's face had paled significantly, an expression of fear etched deep. Xander just looked on curiously before burying himself back into his books.

"Angel?" She asked hesitantly.

"Didn't your watcher tell ya sweet cheeks?" He asked, puffing his cigarette with vigor and shaking his head mockingly, "you died. The master killed you long enough for another to be called. Sure Xander resuscitated you but," his smirk widened "no longer one girl in all the world for you, you must be so disappointed."

"Council must have sent the Slayer here for a reason, a Slayer that would have been trained from birth. Would have been an interesting fight." Shrugging his shoulders dismissively he flicked his cigarette stub onto the carpeted floor and ground the smoldering tobacco into a large burn mark.

"So here is this Slayer, trained from birth in the arts of combat and demonology and they find her gutted like a pig with nothing but a silver ring of the order to show what happened to her. Didn't even look like she put up much of a fight."

Buffy starred in horror at her boyfriend as his yellow eyes mockingly stripped the hope and confidence that had slowly been built over the night, leaving behind a renewed sense of fear and crushing despair. 'Why?' she cried pitifully internally. 'Why?'

"Angelus." Although Jenny Calendar whispered it, the name echoed around the stock filled library. "How?"

"Ah," Angelus continued, leaping over the railing and onto the first floor of the library bringing himself that much closer to the Scoobies. Jenny paled further and Giles face was filled with horror and recognition.

"Well that you can thank the Slayer for, she was so…sweet." His biting laughter roared across the library at his own joke and causing Buffy to flinch and close in on herself where she sat.

"Awwww, I think I broke her." The vampire drawled out mockingly as he caressed the face of the young Slayer, "or at least someone did."

He straightened and captured the group in a horrific, toothy grin. "My demon didn't recognize the subtle manipulations while he was still oppressed by Angel's soul but now it is free he can smell a wonderfully played game and I am impressed. A slayer isn't easy to crush and demoralize so completely, masterful."

"I would ask them to join me but I really don't need the competition."

"Besides, one can only wonder who was behind it?" He quickly flicked a glance in Xander's direction before dismissing the boy as he turned a page in the book he was reading. Perhaps the watcher then?

By now Giles had started to reach for a weapon, Willow and Jenny were chanting in the corner and Xander… Buffy was surprised to notice he was still flickering through a book unconcerned. Almost instinctively she moved from the table and closer to his side, since he had saved her life she had felt safer when he was close and as uncertain as she was it was almost reflective.

"It would be so easy to take you all out here and have a party in your blood and entrails. With your slayer as broken and conflicted as she is and your spare already gutted like a pig, Jenny – don't even pretend that you have the power or training your ancestors did, and Giles, please, let Ripper out to play – Otherwise I fear this will not be so fun, at least for you."

The atmosphere in the library became distinctively menacing as Angelus crouched to attack only to be interrupted as Xander noisily closed the book he was reading. The vampire stared in surprise at the unconcerned expression on the teens face and seemed to hesitate and then, just as suddenly seemed to change his mind.

"Eh – but where is the fun in that. I would much rather see the order take you apart. It'll be like sport. I'll see you around sweet cheeks."

Angelus's mocking laughter followed Buffy for a long time and haunted her sleep for far longer.

"So what was that about a dead Slayer?" Xander questioned.

'Who would have thought that a little bloodshed would have provoked such a response,' Harry thought with amusement as he monitored multiple streams of intercepted data, real time, detailing both the US military and investigative response to his attack. The mental display of projected military strength, courtesy of an analysis of the US fielding multiple war games across the globe, was impressive for such a technologically backward country, in such a under developed world.

'Oh yeah, I did. Just like kicking over an anthill,' he chuckled darkly in the Sunnydale school library, turning the page of one of the few tombs he had not read yet. While most of the library had been scanned and catalogued, a decided to savor the last few tombs by reading them the old fashioned way.

It had been three days since he had attacked the Whitehouse and left a gift in the Oval Office, a nice little sign of what was to come and perhaps a warning of the unknown. Despite hording his strength, it had almost proven too much for his unenhanced, fragile body to pull off, particularly after facing down the assassin and Slayer moments before his assault on the muggle centre of Government. It had been a challenge, and he loved a challenge, still it had almost proven too much.

One of the guards had even managed to fight off his aura of power, which he had pumped out during the attack, long enough to wing him with his primitive projectile weaponry. It was embarrassing and it clearly demonstrated how weak he still was. It had been a long time since he had lacked the power to completely overwhelm a muggle installation of any kind and not still have power to spare, much less been vulnerable to such primitive weaponry.

Still he had been successful beyond his initial expectations and behind the veneer that he had maintained since his arrival, disguised as a weak, talentless mortal teenaged muggle, he had monitored the supposed superpower's response. Their operational capability, their response time and perhaps most importantly any conclusion they may have drawn from such a decisive and unexpected attack.

Or rather CSE browsing all the open networks of interconnected electronics around the world and streaming both raw data and analyzed for his viewing, combined with all the other priority projects he had his integrated AI doing, and he had found the hard way that he was not the only one suffering from a massive capability reduction.

Turning another page of his book, not at all bothered by the fact that it was written in a dead, demonic language, he considered the results of his strike and what he had learnt from their response.

After three days of monitoring the battle space at different locations, of operations within and outside of their national boarders, he felt he had a fairly good understanding of their operational and technological capability - if he ever came into direct conflict with their military that understanding was important. Even better, some of their rivals had started conducting their own military operations, in response to the US heightened readiness level, allowing him to get some data on alternative military structures.

Unsurprisingly, monitoring the media channels provided the most entertainment, and no small amount of nostalgia from his childhood and previous life. Conspiracy theories were spinning out faster than they could find experts to support them, the Russians where blamed, fingers were pointed at the Chinese, God had struck the center of the infidels in a global call of arms, it was aliens. Even better, according to some reports he had found floating around in their systems, some of there surviving government agreed with them.

He had even heard rumors of a meeting taking place at the highest levels of the military, government and intelligence agencies and he would have loved to be a fly on the wall at that meeting, but THAT had been low on his priority list. His assault on the Whitehouse had shown that he still had a long way to go before he could even think about matching his former capabilities and forced him to slow some of his plans down and alter others.

Which lead him back to his old routine of intelligence gathering and laying the foundations for future plan's. The expansion of his primary base of operation was on schedule, the power grid of fusion generators was only months away and his slow corruption of the Slayer was going as well as could be expected considering the framework he had to work with.

Construction of automated cybernetic construction modules were progressing as fast as he could clear more space within his base, what he really needed now was legitimacy and man power. Those things he lacked, and it was a problem that continued to haunt him.

Turning the Slayer would be nice but even trained she was only one more foot soldier – a powerful one no doubt, but singular. His study into demons had proven how untamed they were and he lacked the power, for the immediate future, to take authority or legitimacy by force. Anyway he preferred subtly over brute strength, it was far more reliable in the longer term.

Still, as productive as his automotive bases made him, and as intelligent his electronics and CSE were, he could not fight a war himself, even with magic - particularly with the resources of a single world. And any worlds he captured would remain merely lines on a map unless he could adequately defend them and stationary defenses were in his opinion glorified targets.

No, sometimes there were little alternatives to boots on the ground. Preferably magical, well defended boots. And until he regained a little of his former power he was just as susceptible to a 5 megaton nuke as your average American citizen.

Turning another page he glanced over at the other occupants of the library. Giles was busy stocking up on his weaponry as if preparing for a twelfth century war with a frown etched deep into his face and a jittery shake in his movements - with the current combat doctrine of the council he may as well be stuck in the twelfth century Hrry thought suppressing a derisive snort. Giles had been like that since the Council had asked him for information on a missing slayer just before the morgue had asked him to identify the body of said Slayer.

He had been in a bit of a hurry on the night he had killed the girl, and not in the best of moods after having just taken down an assassin, so he hadn't really paid attention to the state of the body, not that he would have cared anyway. Leaving the ring of the assassin on the body was merely an after thought but Giles had come back pale, shaken and had started preparing for war. Not that the older watcher had told the others the reason yet.

Harry shook his head, it was almost like he cared for the girl, and that behavior just did not match to his own experiences or the history he had read of the councils dealing with their foot soldier in the constant war against the supernatural. Then there was the fact that the Order of Teraka held a fearsome reputation, but really, with appropriate precautions he doubted that they were that big of a threat.

He had already found and taken down the second of the silver ringed team assigned to kill him. The third was just a matter of time, his surveillance of Sunnydale was almost complete.

Jenny Calendar, 'or Jana,' he thought with a smirk, recalling the conversation that his surveillance had picked up, was having an animated conversation with Willow about magic. 'Magic,' Harry thought dismissively 'they wouldn't know magic if it struck out and granted them all magical cores and the little he did now relied more on the whim of more powerful beings than an understanding of magics themselves.'

'Not that I know much more about the magics in this universe, my magic works much the same as it always has but the structure of magic that others use is subtly different, perhaps in response to the squibs merely channeling the power of others.' He thought with a small edge of frustration, he had invested almost as much wasted time in trying to determine how magic different in this new reality as he had trying to open the Hell Mouth in a controlled manner.

Harry turned his attention back to his book, his behavior and change in personality since Halloween was rarely questioned now, and the group's suspicions no longer touched their surface thoughts. It seemed they had deadlier priorities to concern themselves with. Not even the recent attack on their government seemed to have had much of an impact on their private war with demons and the supernatural.

What was a small change in eye color or the increased focus of a harmless friend compared to mass murder and apocalypses? Considering his long term plans, it underscored how reactive rather than proactive the group were, not that he was complaining. His plans progressed unhindered and undetected.

The sound of the library doors slamming open and Buffy flouncing in caused him to brush her surface thoughts in surprise. The slayer had been morose for days, the fear and depression of her role had weighed her down and allowed him to take an increasingly important subconscious role as a support and trust pillar. This rapid reversal bore investigation, if it was sustained it would disrupt his plans for the girl. Oh, there was the other Slayer, but Buffy was here and already entrapped in his machinations.

Harry barely retrained his amused grin as he sorted through her passion and sex filled surface thoughts not bothering to probe deeper. Such intimacy combined with the hormones that flooded her body at her age would just make her more emotionally unstable, particularly when her boyfriend of the moment was currently a walking copse, not exactly a pillar of stability. In fact, the reversal in behavior could spectacularly backfire leading to an acceleration of his plans.

The council would be furious when they learnt that they had lost control of one of their most important weopons.

Catching her glance as she entered the library with a knowing look he went back to his book. Giles's clear relief at seeing his Slayer safe confused him however; perhaps the man's feelings were genuine – strange. Even more of a surprise was that she was able to take down an assassin of Teraka, though that was later explained when he saw the bronze glint instead of the silver he was expecting. CSE would never have let him hear the end of it if his performance had been overshadowed by a girl he had been gradually breaking, a girl who despite her supernatural enhancements held no tactical or strategic abilities and even less skill.

When he felt Buffy's paramour arrive, he almost ignored the slight change in the Vampires aura instead allowing himself a brief curious look and relying on a more subtle but thorough magical probe. When the demon opened his mouth, he only confirmed the results of his probe. Somehow, whatever sliver of humanity the manipulative cretin held had disappeared and the demonic possessor of his corpse had completely taken over.

"…slayer was found gutted like a pig…" Harry barely paid attention to the repertoire going on between the demon and the self styled Scoobie gang. Oh mentally he cheered the casual way in which the demon tore down the fragile emotional defenses they held and revealed secrets with relish, rubbing their faces in their helplessness. But he was far more interested in the difference in the vampire's aura and trying to correlate the effect to his own magic so he might figure out how to replicate the effect and eventually understand how the different structure of magic may work.

He still had not been able to open the Hell Mouth in a controlled and repeatable manner, and an understanding of this new magical system might be the breakthrough he needed. Indeed, if he could somehow replicate portions of the changes in order to tame the demonic lusts for blood and destruction, he would have found an important solution to his man power problems.

He had seen some very strong and very cunning demons that if harnessed appropriately would prove ideal foot soldiers, perhaps even lieutenants within his army.

"Angelus." Harry almost laughed derisively at hearing the name whispered with such fear and repulsion. Sure the vampire may have been an integral part of the Scourge of Europe and thus responsible for hundreds if not thousands of deaths, some hideously gruesome, but he did not hold a candle to Voldemort in inspiring fear, or for that matter himself. His name was whispered among the stars with both fear and awe. Only his own people had respected him, they after all did not need to fear him unless they were playing some insidious role in an insurrection against the empire.

'Heh,' Harry thought with vicious amusement, 'now that he is indistinguishable from any other demon, my kid gloves can disappear without needlessly upsetting the group's dynamic and revealing my role in recent events before I am ready.'

Allowing CSE full authority for whatever scans she felt was necessary, he monitored the silvery cloud of sensor nanites that filled the library, engulfing the vampire and embedding themselves under the vampire's skin. The information flow was immediate and Harry could almost see the answer to his problems.

"…or at least someone did." It took all of his will power not to snap a deadly glare in the vampires direction and order his immediate destruction. The sensor stream would be interrupted but Angelus's painful death as he was SLOWLY sent back to hell in atomic sized pieces would be worth it if he avoided a resurgence of the suspicions of his personality change that he had already painstakingly laid to rest.

The moment passed quickly however when he felt the demons eye's dismiss him, as caught up in the illusion that he had weaved as the rest of the pitiful town. Even better, the temporary change in the slayers outlook had been stripped away quickly and completely. When she moved closer to him, unconsciously seeking protection he could not have been more pleased with his well laid plans and CSE sensor drones continued transmitting data.

Snapping his book closed, he looked up and faced the demons gaze unafraid as he crouched down to attack. 'As far as demons went – Angelus barely rated the bottom of a very long list.'

The demons survival instincts apparently kicked in and he scurried away as quickly as he had appeared, leaving a very rattled group. Both Jana and the Watcher were pale and clearly going through everything they had heard about the master vampire while Willow and possible the Slayer also were loudly, at least to his well developed mind, wondering how the hell they had ducked certain death, again in Buffy's case.

Sometimes he wondered why muggles couldn't have more discipline over their surface thoughts; it would provide him with less of a headache.

"So what was that about a dead Slayer?" he quipped trying to steer the direction of the groups thoughts towards an avenue that would avoid exposing any secrets that he was unprepared to reveal while at the same time shape the path that the group would follow into the future. As traumatized as they seemed, he doubted they would even notice.

Before the rest of the group could organize their thoughts further and take the open ended comment and run with it, the Library doors once again banged open leading the adults to grab the nearest weapon in readiness, Harry didn't bother and Buffy merely flinched and moved closer to where he sat.

"Xander Lavelle Harris, how dear you move out and not leave your forwarding address to your best friend." Cordelia Chase's voice echoed in the quiet library as she stumbled to a halt at the sight of the weapon bearing group and the arms that filled the table.

"Obviously, I wasn't talking about me – mental check, hello." She snarked, not in the least intimidated but the question was obvious on her face.

Harry just shook his head sadly, once again reminded that as disguised as he was, sometimes his costume followed him home.

"Bloody Slayer," Spike raged, "Nancy boy of a Keeper." Stalking back and forth in his undecorated crypt, as far from the high school as he could manage, he glanced fondly at his undead lover Drusilla as she absently played with her dolls on a bed he had managed to drag through the stone doorway.

"If I can't make balloon animals from the entrails of the slayer and her friends and gift you a bath in their blood soon, I am gonna have to forget the Hell Mouth and look for a softer target." Spikes bloodthirsty raging was only interrupted as he breathed in deeply from the fag he had at his lips.

"Don't worry my darling Spikey," Drusilla drawled in a sing song voice. Not even looking up from her dolls she managed to calm the raging vampire down, "I am gonna have a PARTY for my birthday."

"Of course you are pet, of course you are. And it's gonna be the bloodiest party this century, just you wait. It'll make the days in Europe seem like a warm up in comparison," Spike's British accent barely slipped as he thought about the Order of Teraka assassins that he had sent after the blond bint of a slayer – unsuccessfully so far. He had never heard of them failing so he wasn't too worried, but this mysterious Keeper kept him up at nights.

He had heard rumors that he had managed to slip a silver ringed team of Teraka assassins, and his demonic body count was raising steadily as ever more powerful demons decided to make a name for itself. Despite that, whoever or whatever it was had manged to stay bellow the Slayers radar.

No, Hell Mouth or not, Sunnydale was rapidly becoming a town to avoid unless you had some serious mojo to back yourself up, and if his latest ploy failed he may have to disappear for a while.

"Spike, you disappoint me. Your taste in décor has seriously slipped," Spike allowed his vamperic face to slip as he crouched ready for an attack. He had taken down two Slayers in his time and anyone crazy enough to attack him in his own crypt while Drusilla was with him was asking for a messy death.

"No slave girls, no torture victims, no Balloon animals and most surprising of all, no minions. How far you have fallen since those good days of Europe," Spike glanced over at Drusilla, no help there, she was still playing with her dolls. Sometimes he wondered what went through her head, anyone who remembered his days in Europe was dangerous. 'Oh yeah,' he thought with sarcasm 'not much, Good old Angelus made quite sure she was quite mad before turning her.'

"Daddy, your home." Spike straightened in surprise as Drusilla rushed the dark figure.

"Angelus?" Spike questioned uncertainly with no small amount of jealousy as the figure kissed Drusilla deeply.

"What can I say," the figure said steeping into the light and proving that he was indeed who he said he was "I am back, couldn't miss Dru's birthday party after all."

"We shall see." To his credit, the vampire did not even flinch as a blue demon with multiple horns strode undeclared from a darkened corner. "Spike tells me you were cursed with the stink of humanity, if that is so, you made a mistake coming here."

"The Judge," Angelus breathed in excitement "a demon brought forth to rid the Earth of the plague of humanity. Sure, way before my time. Still… do your thing demon." He announced not even flinching as the blue demon approached and lay a hand on his chest.

"That tickles," Angelus commented as he lit up a cigarette. "But I brought my own gift to your party my dear." He announced whistling loudly.

"May I present Acathla and let us party as we have not done before."

Spike watched as a pack of five fledging vampires moved a stone mummy into the crypt. He had head of Acathla, a demon that came to suck the world into Hell as opposed to just burning merely separating the righteous from the wicked.

"Ooohh daddy, Mrs Edith says you bring the best gifts to the party." Drusilla announced, clapping her hands merrily.

Spike couldn't help but agree, with two powerful demons – once they could awaken him, a reunited Scouge of Europe and the additional minions Angelus had brought in, Sunnydale would run bright red with the blood of innocents and he would get to make some Balloon animals to gift his lover with.

In the back of his mind though, he couldn't help but plan for the worst. An exit for himself and Drusilla. Anyone who underestimated a Slayer usually ended up dead and he had no idea what this keeper was capable of.


	6. How Deep the Hellmouth Goes

6. How Deep the Hellmouth Goes 

**Title:** Chaos on the Hellmouth  
**Author name:** Kunglou

**Author email:** AU  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Summary:** Harry Potter had fielded and led vast armies, manipulated intergalactic wars and raised mankind to the heights of first ones but he had not actually existed until a chaos mage had sabotaged a Halloween on the hell mouth.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own either BTVS or Harry Potter and claim no rights to the copyrighted material. I am making no money off this story.

**Author notes: Massively AU, OC, HP: A matter or Perception/BtVS/Bab5**

**If you are unfamiliar with the perception series I really recommend that you read the first two pieces for this piece to make sense. Keep in mind that Xander was possessed, his memories merged with the more dominant personality of Harry's.**

**Oh and for those that noticed - I have intentionally messed with the timelines. If Buffy was shown in 2001 instead of 1996 the dates would have matched. From this perspective I hardly think I am messing with the continuity too much. Besides, there are technological and social reasons for this.**

Ch6 – How Deep the Hellmouth Goes

"Through clever and constant application of propaganda, people can be made to see paradise as hell, and also the other way round, to consider the most wretched sort of life as paradise."

-Adolf Hitler

Jenny Calendar tapped furiously at her keyboard, occasionally pausing to glare frustratingly at her computer screen. The moonlight shone strongly through her classroom window in a testament to the late hour. The later she worked, the more frustrated she became. Gypsy tricks and knowledge of magic and demons aside, working in a public building on the Hellmouth, after dark, was not a good idea.

"That's an understatement," she grumbled to herself. "More like a death wish – Particularly with the beast Angelus loose."

The work she was doing however was crucial to her clan's survival and future growth and she would do much, risk much, for that. When Angelus lost his soul, she knew that it was only a matter of time before the self proclaimed Scooby gang found out about her gypsy heritage and in turn, her clan's history with the beast.

While normally she would not have cared, she had recently been thrust into a position of authority within her clan. Everyday, another member trickled in to take their place in Sunnydale and its surrounds as part of a greater clan presence overseeing their interests on the Hellmouth. It was, then, her role to ease their relocation and mask the sudden influx of skilled labor into the small town so as not to raise suspicion. The last thing the Kalderash needed was to attract attention to themselves from either the demons that plagued the area, or the Council that had staked out jurisdiction over the area.

They had not survived as long, nor gained the reputation that they had, by being obvious in their movements or activities, and the clan would not stand aside and allow an increasingly irreverent club of old men in England sole control over the most active Hellmouth in the world. It was too dangerous for the world and it would embed the council's power among their tight nit demon hunting community for centuries.

Neither of which was acceptable to her or her clans elders, it was arguable who was more qualified for the role anyway. It was for this reason that she was currently working late in a public building on the Hellmouth.

When the Slayer and her Watcher found out who she really was, and likely reported her presence to the council, all her work at ingratiating herself with the council's watcher and its present slayer would be wasted, their most likely action would be to cut ties with her. That would lead to the small amounts of intelligence that she had managed to glean from them to dry up as well.

The source of information aside, her discovery had the potential to threaten the others of her clan by drawing attention to their actions. It would be a disaster.

"Not gonna happen," Jenny growled, striking the keyboard with increased fervor, willing the screen to change.

No, she needed to offer them something to placate them for when they found out about her history and misdirect them from the others of her Clan. As much as she valued her own life and ambitions, she was expendable, as were most of her clan members at her position. Considering that most of the Scooby gang were still hormonal teenagers, she had found just the thing to provide a distraction. The watcher would be guided by his slayer as he was wont to be.

When she had obtained the original script of the curse which had given the Angelus a soul in revenge for his brutal killing of the favored daughter of a clan elder, she had grabbed it and immediately started work on a translation. Jenny had known that it would become useful one day.

On the day that they discovered her history and links to Angelus's past, its use would become apparent.

In fact, she was surprised that they had not discovered her origins already. Not that she was complaining, it just gave her more time to translate the curse so that she had something more concrete to offer the group. She doubted that anyone had the skill, experience or power to cast it safely so she was not worried about offering it to the group.

Giles may have had it once, but he had long since lost his edge to old age and lack of practice. She doubted that the slayer would be remotely effective in any situation that did not have the enemy standing dumbly in front of her and the other hangers on seemed useful in collecting snacks for their research parties – but little more. Jenny smirked, "only the redhead has any sort of potential, and I am already leading her on a path that can only end with the clan. She may yet prove a very valuable asset to us and our activities on the Hellmouth."

Jenny glanced out at the full moon worriedly, allowing her smirk to falter before hitting a few more keys in rapid succession. She was so close to having the curse translated but maybe she was pushing her luck. After dark on the Hellmouth, anyone else and she would doubt their sanity.

Sighing in frustration and shaking off the deepening unease she felt, Jenny turned of her computer, after staring at it longingly for a second, and got up to leave. She would be no use to her clan if she ran into a few fledglings on her way home.

Checking her alarm wards as she locked the door, it took her seconds to realize that her wards were gone. Jenny momentarily froze in fear, she had not noticed them being tampered with or breached and yet the wards she had craftily and in her opinion cleverly placed - had disappeared. Fingering the wooden stake, that she always kept in her pocket, with nervous tension she slowly walked along the suddenly frighteningly empty and deadly quite corridor of the local public High school.

It should not have been possible to take her wards down without her noticing SOMETHING, if it were then the alarm wards would have been useless as alarms. In fact the wards were the equivalent of a glass bottle balanced precariously on a ball; any tampering would shatter the glass, immediately notifying her of the tampering.

Shivering at the echo of her footsteps along the marbled floors, Jenny picked up her pace and started a steady jog towards the nearest exit. Something was wrong, she could feel it, and on the Hellmouth that was BAD.

"This is not happening," she whispered fiercely to herself angrily. She just had to push it and stay after dark even knowing everything that was happening.

"Jenny, there's no need to run, I am an old friend to the clans after all." Jenny shivered at the singsong tone of Angelus's voice as it echoed over her heavy breathing and rapid footsteps. The exit was just around the corner she thought in desperation, her heart pounding through her chest in raising panic.

"Actually, there probably is." Angelus chuckled evilly, she couldn't tell where he was nor did she care as she turned the corner and poured on the speed towards the double doors exiting the school.

"Jana, can I call you Jana, I believe we have some catching up to do and I would love for you to be a message to darling Buffy for me." Jenny shook her head in helplessness and fear as she saw the chains that wrapped themselves through the door handles, blockading her exit.

Heart pounding she still tried to crash through the doors, testing the chains. They didn't give and she turned around to see the beast casually sauntering towards her, cigarette hanging from his grinning lips. His yellow eyes and Vamperic visage chilled her soul.

"After the routine and quite satisfying torture session, satisfying for me of course," Angelus visibly gloated as she sprinted back the way she came and took another corner. Frantically searching for a way out, her stake had long been abandoned. For a fledging she may have attempted to take it down, with her magic, maybe even if there were two. But there was no way she was getting that close to a master vampire, especially not one with Angelus's history and reputation.

"After all, I have decades to make up for." Angelus's voice neared with a frightening and unstoppable inevitability.

Jenny bashed vainly at another barricaded exit before darting to another. The school took on a maze like quality as her breathing echoed in her ears, almost drowned out by the beasts chilling taunts. She knew well what he was capable off and knew that her death would be excruciatingly painful if he caught her. "When he catches me,' she thought helplessly as she allowed her hysteria to completely control her actions.

"Well isn't this just pathetic." Jenny froze at the deep grumbling voice that cut through her panic and hysteria and left her wondering about the distain and disgust that dripped from the new entrants tone.

"A member of the Kalderash, running from a 'has been' minion." Jenny crouched deeper into the a corner as a hooded figure stepped out of the shadows and approached them at a deliberate pace, seemingly unafraid of the Master Vampire he faced.

"Who are you calling minion buddy," Angelus snarled. Flicking the bud of his cigarette to the side and stepping forward aggressively Jenny watched in fearful fascination as the beast growled a deep boastful growl in an attempt to intimidate the approaching figure. His dark trench coat hid all but his height, even his face was hidden under the shadows of his hood. It could have been human or demon. If the figure was human, she doubted their sanity.

"In fact, this little Hollywood opera has begun to get too painfully clichéd to watch further. Angelus, with your lack of imagination, I am surprised someone hasn't taken you down sooner."

The figure stopped in the middle of the corridor and mockingly chuckled at the snarling vampire, "oh wait. They have."

Jenny almost couldn't watch, she assumed that whoever it was that was taunting the vampire knew what they were doing and how vicious and powerful the beast was. It was thus reasonable to assume that they were more powerful or insane, perhaps both, either way her fate hadn't necessarily changed from near messy and painful death. Her situation had the potential to get far worse, it was like trying to decide who she preferred to kill her.

"That's it buddy, you've just earned front row seats to this little opera and then I am gonna enjoy taking you apart piece by piece, VERY slowly. Your screams will be a pleasant reminder of this night."

Jenny was glad that she was staring so raptly at the confrontation before her, because she was sure that she would have missed it otherwise. The beast lunged, almost too fast for her eyes to follow, a bestial roar echoing down the schools corridor was the only warning. It was what she expected from a vampire of his age and power. The next moment the vampire was caught in a vice like grip by a very human hand and slammed against a brick wall with enough force to chip the ceramic.

"Leave, find your message elsewhere. I have business with the Kalderash tonight."

Jenny shook her head a little at mention of her clan and her fear returned as did all hope of escape while the two combatants fought. At least with Angelus she could be assured of death with no remaining involvement of her clan. She doubted that the beast even knew that they had not only survived but thrived in the centuries he had languished with a soul.

No, perhaps it was better that Angelus won this one, her death would be a necessary consequence of keeping her clan safe.

"Now that was just rude of you pal," Angelus quipped as he broke out of the humans grip and slammed a fist into the hooded figures face knocking him down. Before she could get a look inside of his hood or before the master vampire could follow through on his advantage, a concussive blast threw her and the vampire away from the figure, slamming them both into a wall, allowing the trench coated figure time to stand.

"Leave," he commanded again in a deeper more powerful voice. As a techno-pagan she was sensitive to strong magics, even if she could not wield them, and his command reeked of the strongest magics that she had ever felt. This time she was not surprised when Angelus paled slightly and dove out of the nearest window. He didn't even bother vowing vengeance as he was wont to do against enemies. Warlocks as strong as this one felt were not to be taken on without meticulous planning and overwhelming numbers.

"What…?" Jenny stammered as he turned his focus on her. Huddled in the corner in fear, until his mocking words about her clan came back to her and she forced her back to stiffen. Kalderash did not cower and even facing down this imposing figure, one that had apparently scared the master vampire Angelus with a look, she would do the clan proudly.

"You realize that he will probably go after the watcher now that you intervened." She asked as she again contemplated running. 'No,' she mentally shook her head. From the brief fight earlier it is obvious that he is a magic user and he singly faced down a master vampire. Running will be even more fruitless than it was for Angelus.

"Of course," Jenny shuddered at its deeply voiced and amused quip. IT was AMUSED! Surely it was no normal human to be amused at the Watchers probable fate, as vengeful as her clan was rumored to be, she would not have wished that on her worst enemy. Particularly after Angelus's original target had been snatched from him. Giles would suffer deeply before he died.

"Come now Jenny, or should I call you Jana, surely if the increasingly irrelevant old men in England sent him here, they would have ensured his protection?" Jenny paled at his words, he had echoed the words of her uncle weeks ago – how. It should have been impossible to eavesdrop on her conversation like that, just like her alarm wards disappearing tonight. Whoever this was, was powerful and he or she knew of her clan. She could not afford to piss him off.

So polite, she thought threw gritted teeth. "Who are you?"

"Perhaps you have heard of me, demons around here are calling me the Holder of the Hellmouth."

Jenny paled further, this…. This could be VERY bad. She had more than heard of him, she had seen the type of enemies he seeming regularly tangled with. Including a silver ringed squad of Teraka.

"But enough about me, lets talk. I think that we can reach an agreement that benefits us both. At least in the short term, beyond that – who knows?"

Jenny shakingly stepped forward and gestured towards the direction she had just run hysterically from. Her office may not provide any protection but being in a familiar place would calm her nerves while she negotiated terms with … She doubted whoever this was that they were human after all.

"Call me Harry, Jana." Jenny forced a smile as he anticipated her question and hoped that her clan accepted the necessity of what she was doing today; otherwise it would end very badly for all of them.

* * *

Jack sat slumped calmly in the back of the military helicopter that had picked him up as soon as he had finished his rescue mission through the Stargate. 'Failed rescue mission,' he thought with frustrated disappointment. 'He had not,' Jack thought with a deep cynical chuckle and a brief look at his CO seated next to him, 'even had time to finish his report. Paper work is so over rated anyway.'

In fact he was still in his dirty fatigues, not even given the opportunity to change, and even though he appeared unworried – it was only a façade that he had developed over a long involvement in the Air Force Special Tactics that allowed him to appear so unconcerned.

Glancing again at Major General Hammond, who was sitting stiffly next to two very alert and heavily armed guards, who were carrying what appeared to be the latest in suppression weaponry, and they looked trained in their use. He could not help but wonder how events had come to this. When he was a young man, still idealistic in many ways, the Air Force had recognized his natural leadership and seemingly tactical genius which had made him stand ahead of his graduating class.

His academic excellence only added points in his favor among his superiors, even if he disliked drawing attention to his interest in academic pursuits. It did not fit in well with the military culture that he was becoming immersed in, and while secretly he acknowledged the advantages that it gave him over his allies and enemies alike, it was a well kept secret to those that hadn't seen his file. As his career advanced, less and less people had access to that file allowing him increased control over the style he presented.

After finishing officer school, he was quickly co-opted into the Air Force Special Tactics and eventually an elite commando unit that served as the jagged end of America's foreign policy of the day. Sometimes they were successful and sometimes they were not. Sometimes wars and greater military skirmishes were avoided and sometimes the political fallout seemed unavoidable.

As his experience and training grew, his missions gradually became blacker, more secretive and borderline illegal – Hell laws were written for those other people of society, the ones that had a picket fence and a family waiting at home, not men like him where borders were simply lines on a page.

Of course, he also had one of those, but he put it out of his mind and did his job, followed orders and he liked to think that he brought his own morality to the job, skirted the orders he knew he could get away with and completely re-defined others as necessary. Thereby making an unpleasant job slightly less so and earning the loyalty of his peers in the process.

It gave him a very cynical and real politik view of the world, where policies and world events were not shaped in parliaments, not driven by the ballet box, but by invisible puppet masters in back offices. Unseen, where only the projection of force ruled the day. That view also gave him the flexibility of thought he sometimes needed to complete some of those missions, knowing that who he was reporting to today would not necessarily be who he reported to tomorrow.

He was at the top of the world, it seemed nothing could stop him, and there lay only upside towards the future. He had a family waiting at home, a son he was proud of, some of the best mates he could wish for and the most challenging and often satisfying work he could imagine. Of course, not all ops were the same and sometimes he lost good friends, but he always tried to put that behind him, it was part of military life.

Then it had all come crashing down. Nature did what changing administrations couldn't have, he got old, his body slowed down just a little and he got captured, left behind for dead by his team, he doubted the outcome would have changed if he had been captured by the Russians, the Iraqis, or the Libyans. Tortured in a shit hole prison for four months before he could make his own escape back home.

It had simply been that one mission too many and even though he had sworn that it would never happen to him – it had. It had hurt that his team had left him behind, and it had changed forever his belief that one should never leave a man behind. Sometimes the mission trumped all and it became a numbers game.

Torture did not help the natural degradation of his body and to this day his knees were stuffed, the body could only weather so much punishment – even if the mind was more than willing to go on. He had had some of the best anti-mind control training America could give him, his mind was more than willing to keep on going but his body was no longer up to the challenge of being on the jagged edge.

It had been the end of his black ops days.

Life went on though, and he went back to work. No longer at the jagged edge but still, someone of his experience, flexibility of thought and security clearance was rare, at least among those still alive and it wasn't like they could get rid of him. He knew where too many bodies were buried.

Too knowingly cynical of the political and military process to chew out and he had never stopped learning. He was very difficult to get rid off, as more than a few superiors had found out to their careers encumbrance.

Then nature decided to take him down another few notches.

'Awww Charlie,' he thought with despair. The pain still there, even after all those years. His son was taken from him – shot with his own gun, and it was too much. He had retired, thinking only of a lake with no fish and living one day at a time. His body and mind had still not completely recovered from his capture and months of torture and his son's death had broken him. On some days he still believed he was broken.

That had been the end of his Air Force days.

At least it had been before he had been approached about a job suitable to someone of his background, experience and security clearance, approached by someone who had actually been able to look through his file.

His retirement was starting to wear thin, he was intrigued and he decided that dying of old age was not something he wanted after all. One last mission – he would go out in a blaze of glory that no one would ever hear about before he became incapable of going on missions at all. He had been proud of his career and his family, both were gone and he admitted to feeling slightly suicidal at the time.

And what a mission – aliens and other planets. Jack shook his head. He considered himself a simple man, wanting simple things but honest to god aliens. It boggled the mind, but it had probably saved his life. Restoring some of his drive, some of his smashed self worth. It was something he would not have ever imagined when he was still in officer's school.

"Sirs, we are landing."

Jack nodded at his guards wondering at their presence, their alertness. Were the guards informed about the threat that the SGC had faced off world? Why were he and his CO being summoned? And by who, after all, there were only so many people that out ranked a major general? At least their guards were not MP's and they remained respectful of their rank, so it was unlikely that they were actually under arrest but the speed and seriousness of their summons was concerning.

They had been told nothing. In fact he had not heard any news since he had stepped through the gate for the second time, this time on a rescue mission. Major general Hammond had not been communicative and with the guards as alert as they were, he didn't blame the big man.

Had someone finally taken his report seriously, his threat assessment of the aliens through the gate had only seemed to increase after his latest mission. Their weapons, man power and space craft – honest to god space craft – left anything on earth way behind. He knew the required technological level for some of the things that he had seen and it was not looking good if they decided to fly those honking ships to earth and set up orbit.

The jolt of the chopper hitting the ground shook Jack out of his deep thoughts and painful reminiscence of days gone by. "Sirs," the guard gestured to another escort. His CO, and he leapt out and watched as the Apache took of. 'An AH-64A/D on escort duty, never thought I would see the day,' Jack shrugged unconcerned, sneaking another look at the major general before followed his escort. Both were as alert and well armed as their guards on the trip over. 'At least they were polite,' he thought 'still doesn't tell me why we're here though.

Jack scanned what at first appeared to be a deserted grassy field, but his experienced eye caught more than one camouflaged soldier crawling around – sloppy that, not to mention the nests that dotted the sight in interlocking fields of fire and kill zones. He could hear faint rumblings of jets in the distance, probably enforcing a no fly zone, why the hell were they being dropped into the middle of some rookie training.

Holding his tongue as they approached a large netted tent, he knew from experience that the camouflage would render it almost invisible from the air, Jack instead focused on counting the number of soldiers that he spotted circling their position.

'If they had been my boys,' he thought with a dark glare at one of the more visible soldiers 'I would have had them drummed back into basic for such sloppiness.'

"Sirs, the president well see you now."

Ok now he had to admit that threw him. The president – what the hell was going on? Why wasn't the big man on capital hill, the Whitehouse? Even his ranch? Some grassy field in the middle of some training exercises was the last place he expected to find the man.

Unable to hold his tongue any longer, as soon as he entered, ignoring the other people in the tented area, after all he only recognized one of them, he blurted out what was at the top of his head. "Mr. President, with all due respect, but what the HELL is going on? I spotted at least seven bodies marking our position and another four nests and those guards have some of the most expensive equipment that I have seen issued to a mission, any mission."

"In fact," he stopped and had a real good look around. The computers, the techies, the large screens displaying real time streaming data, he was in a damned C'n'C. A hell of a high tech one for a field base, in fact even those in the depth of the pentagon would love to have half this stuff. What the hell had happened while he was off world for the president to be camped in the middle of a field like this one?

"Colonel O'neill," he just winced at Hammonds roar. Clearly his new CO was as straight laced as his career indicated – that was both good and bad. He could work with him, he hated the corrupt and power hungry CO's that cared little for their team, but his history and cynical nature would make it difficult to work with someone as buy the book as this one seemed to be – not everyone saw the world as he did, as he had been trained to see it as the case may be.

Any further dressing down however was interrupted by the president's dark chuckle that broke into a rumbling laugh. "That's quite alright George, how else did you expect him to react. I know that you were uncomfortable with this little exercise but considering what we both know, I thought it necessary to test him a little before full disclosure."

Jack looked carefully at the clearly uncomfortable general beside him, something was going on and if it were a decade ago he would be expecting a potentially suicidal and very illegal black op. The still alert guards, and the man standing silently behind where the president was seated, a man he now recognized as a senator- though he couldn't for the life him remember from where –and his CO, it didn't make sense.

He would not be debriefed in front of so many witnesses, it would make the whole concept of deniability laughable. Particularly with so many civilian witnesses.

The only thing that prevented him from demanding further answers, despite his CO's displeasure at his borderline insubordinate decorum, was that he could feel those answers coming anyway. "Kinsey, I believe you owe me a drink. I've been keeping an eye on that bottle of scotch you've been hoarding for the last twelve years. His evaluation of the situation will be very useful."

"Yes Mr. President, I expected him to miss more than two." Jack suppressed a wince. He had been out of the game far too long if he had missed two of his watchers. Lucky it was only training, he would have been dead otherwise, but that still didn't answer his questions – Hell he didn't even really know where they were.

"Jack," the president turned his attention back to him carefully, deliberately put three folders onto the table that separated them. 'Another test?' he wondered silently as he watched the man, scanning the reactions of all those in the room. He had been in far too many combat situations where the smallest hint of trouble quickly became a lethal threat; a good situational awareness had saved his life more than once.

"While you were off world, the Whitehouse was hit."

A chill ran down his spin as the president suddenly had his full attention. He had some friends on protection detail, they would not have gone down easily, if at all. Jack stood their, silently imploring the President for more details.

"We still don't know who it was, why, or even quite how. But whoever it WAS ghosted in, massacred every man woman and child, left a calling card burnt into my damn table, in the oval office no less, and ghosted out. Me? He left alive, as a sign of his power, mercy or threat. It could be any of them. We just don't know."

Still focused on what the President was saying and suppressing the shock and grief he felt at his comrades almost certain deaths, internally he started running through people or organization he was even remotely familiar with the could have done something like that. He had tangled with some very capable people in the past but in the end he felt that none of them really fit the profile he had been given. In fact, few of those he did know would have clocked up such a body count – such a waste.

"It is why I am constantly moving between different sites, and why the country is on DEFCON 3, before we know more we have no way of anticipating a next move or even knowing what to expect as a next move."

Jack kept his silence, noting that the major general next to him was not in the least surprised. Considering it had happened while he was off world, he expected the brass to be up to date, so he wasn't remotely surprised at his CO's lack of reaction to the attack.

"In front of me are three folders. In the first is what we know about the attack; analysis, pictures, timelines, the usual."

The president's hand moved slightly to the right, "in the next two are our best guesses as to who is responsible and probable threat assessments. This one is what we know about the go'uld – you should be familiar with it, most of it is your work."

Finally the man's hand rested on the third folder, "and this one is yet another project that you WILL be unfamiliar with but which potentially yields just as much thread to this country as the other one."

Jack barely had to think as he picked up the first folder, test or not, he could not very well comment until he had a little more idea of what he was looking at and what they, whoever they were, were capable off. Already he could eliminate the go'uld though; the little snaky buggers had a god complex. If it had been them the world would already be either bowing to their new god or fighting for its survival, suffering under a mass invasion.

Flicking through the photos of the attacked Whitehouse, the brief timeline's and condensed analysis, he tossed the folder back on the desk and reached for the third folder, bypassing the second all together. He was certain that it was not the go'uld's that were responsible. It was too meticulous, too subtle. Their style would probably be to bombard the Whitehouse from orbit and broadcast to the world cities that their god had arrived.

They would no doubt have the technology, but from what he had seen, they would never demean themselves to using it in such a way. And what was with the call sign, some kind of three headed dog with a snake tail? 'The world is older than you know and it's history far darker.' Who the fuck came up with that shit.

Still, he had to admit, his exposure to the go'uld was less than ideal.

Opening the third file, he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow and look askance at the president. Vampires? Aliens and now vampires, the world went to hell in a hand basket while he was away.

"So Colonel, your thoughts?"

Jack just nodded, carefully wording his response, his first thought was that some sort of hoax being pulled by the president and his advisors – not that he would ever admit such a thing, and, with what he had seen on his last mission, he would not rule anything out. "Why me Sir, if you've seen my file," he waited until both the senator and the president nodded in confirmation, "you know that this is not really my area of expertise."

"On the contrary Jack, can I call you Jack?" The president asked as he leaned forward, not waiting for a response before he continued. "This is so far from anyone else's ally it lands firmly in yours, now, what are your thoughts Colonel?"

Knowing a command from his commander in chief when he heard one, Jack just sighed and tossed the third folder that contained the sparse information on the proposed Initiative op and the Vampire threat back onto the table that it had come from.

"It is clear that we are blind, we lack credible information about either threat. Information is key in this ca..."

"Mr. President, we have a missile launch from the south pacific – its Indonesia Sir." A weedy voiced technician interrupted him from the side. On the large screen, a satellite image of the region and the tracked missile started streaming real-time, replacing the multiple images that had previously been displayed. "Tracking point of origin and estimated trajectory."

Lance thought back to one of the last conversations he had with his long time friend and political advisor, Dave. Before he was mercilessly put down like a dog – with as much respect. 'A flash point for Islamic radicalism he called it – Damn, that's the last thing we need.'

A conflict with the most populous Islamic nation in the world is one of the reasons we got out of the Middle East and made ourselves independent of their oil in the first place. Military build up or not, the commonwealth of Australia does not have the forces to subdue a rowdy Indonesia – Nuke them maybe, subdue them, not a chance in hell.

Jack just groaned in exasperation and a deepening realization that this was no hoax and just how serious the situation had become. It seemed that like it or not, he was once again being thrust into the jagged edge of US foreign policy, it was starting to become obvious why he had been summoned.

"It is braking up in the upper atmosphere, tracking debris…. And we have lost it sir. Sorry." The monitor flicked back to the multiple streams of data is had been displaying as they lost the missile.

"Find out what you can, do hourly satellite sweeps of the area if you have to. I want to know who launched it, why and how they even got it. I expect to know the serial number of the electronics, and that debris that is no doubt scattered across the island chain by now, by yesterday. I am having enough problems with the Europeans and Chinese without this showing up."

"In fact get the Australians on the bell, if they have not woken up already, this in there back yard and we cannot afford any kind of escalation that will disrupt our trading routes with one of the few firm allies we have."

Lance Jackson growled before refocusing his attention on Jack. He could see that any patience the president may have had before, had long since vanished with the news of a missile launch from southern California.

"Now Jack you were saying." Jack could clearly hear the strain in the president's voice and could hardly blame him. It reinforced their need for reliable information about both threats, a need for reliable information years ago.

"Mr. President, we need information. I found evidence, on my latest mission off world, of a library of destination points, which also means a multitude of possible invasion points. That's if they don't just ship a few million troops over. We just don't have enough information about their capability for a proper threat assessment, let alone an effective way to combat the threat. We need boots on the ground."

Jack could see it now, a command of combat teams, establishing a military presence throughout the galaxy, stripping resources and technology to fortify their world and advance themselves far enough to stand up against any threat. They would not even have to disturb the natives, after all there was enough uninhabited planetoids to go around. Daniel would be devastated but with the precarious situation America sat in – it could not be helped. Diplomatic and cultural exchanges would have to be reprioritized when more information was made available.

"As for this other threat, we don't even know if they are the threat we think they are. Information is even more precious. However chances are that we face a potential war from within and without, or we will within the next few years and we need to prepare ourselves for that."

Jack watched as the president sat back with a thoughtful frown on his face as he thought about what Jack has told him. It was what he would do if he were facing two unknown and potential vastly superior threats. The senator next too him looked entirely too pleased with the situation for his liking and he itched to wipe the smug smirk of the politicians face in light of the apparent seriousness of the situation.

"I have been advised as such, your reaffirmation is welcome Colonel. It is for that reason that I am granting you both field promotions. Congratulations."

"General, you have earned your third star, and I want you to head up a group that will coordinate both projects and keep me informed. Is that clear, INFORMED. The lieutenant will give you the details. DISMISSED."

Jack watched in stunned surprise as the general next to him lost his stiff, uncomfortable look. Saluted and walked out with one of the guards. Clearly he had been worried about the outcome of this meeting, perhaps he should have voted for this guy after all. Jack had personally fully expected a week of committees dominated by pencil pushers before a decision of this magnitude was made.

"Jack, your new rank of Brigadier General will let you take control of the SGC. Put your vision into practice, work with General Hammond. I want this threat dealt with before it blows up in our collective faces. DISMISSED."

Sauntering out, Jack couldn't help but grin smugly at the senators pallid expression, clearly he had hoped for control over both projects. 'Yes, perhaps I should have voted for him after all,' he thought, already planning significant changes to the command. At the back of his mind however, he noted that Kinsey was the most likely candidate to head up the initiative and he doubted that the straight laced and new three star general would be able to control someone like that.

* * *

Wandering randomly around the streets of Sunnydale after dark was an experience he had come to enjoy. Even though he could monitor every aspect of the small town, in real time, through his carefully concealed observation bugs, from multiple angles if he chose, nothing could compare to the cool, moist air and the darkly malevolent mystical feel that tickled the senses of anyone sensitive to it.

The curruptingly raw and darkly cloying feel of magic which came from the Hellmouth oppressed the entire town and only got stronger as you approached the mouth of Hell that was based beneath the local High school library. It spoke to him of the ultimate truth, of the survival of the fittest, where only the strong flourished and the weak – well there was little place for the weak in Sunnydale.

Humans and other weak creatures were huddled under their beds or crypts and only the truly powerful ever purposely troubled him anymore as he wondered the streets of Sunnydale. His reputation and the subtle feel of power that he give out to those sensitive to the same magics as the hell mouth, ensured it. That left him time to plan, ponder and scheme.

He had been doing little else recently, as he played the foolishly weak and idiotically naive high school student that lacked even the power or drive to contribute to the group of soldiers that he hung out with. 'Too weak to contribute to a group of inexperienced and barely trained child soldiers at that,' he thought with disgust He felt weaker just contemplating the distasteful role.

Harry snorted in disgust at the necessity of disguise, but that time was coming to an end. He could feel it in the air. His time of planning was almost over and things were coming to a head, if only he was ready to seize the opportunity. But then, when had he ever been completely ready – he would seize the opportunity, face the challenges that he would not doubt face and he would triumph regardless of his readiness, which is what he had always done.

Stretching his aura out to embrace the dark magics of the Hellmouth, Harry grinned in dark anticipation. The last remaining Teraka assassin was out there somewhere, and as soon as he was put down then he would worry about Angelus and his little buddies poorly thought out plan.

The drones that he had embedded into Angelus had analyzed enough of the residual should magic that he thought he may have been able to force a stable opening of the Hellmouth, but Angelus had stumbled across something that had changed his priorities - a demon that could, reportedly, open a gate to hell without relying on the fixed location of the Hellmouth.

Harry smirked at the potential of such a technology. He would be able to build a powerbase across dimensions. Once the master vampire actually worked out how it worked, he would be ready and waiting to take the answers from him, properly thanking him for his unwitting services. Harry's eyes gleamed at the thought. He doubted the vampire would survive his appreciation.

Rubbing his jaw absently in phantom pain, any damage had long since been healed, he considered Jenny Calendars words the night before when he had undoubtedly saved her life from a very messy end in order to negotiate with her clan.

She had been absolutely correct when she had said that Angelus would go after the watcher. It was exactly what he would have expected the psychopath to have done in order to send the slayer a very clear message and it was what the master vampire had done.

It had been obvious, when he considered that the man would have been the only one in Sunnydale who would have likely had the answers to Angelus's dimensional portal problem. Harry had already scoured the digital library of demonology that he had aquired and was displeased at finding it incomplete.

Buffy and Willow had been frantic all day at knowing that he had been kidnapped by the master vampire. Not that they had actually considered skipping school to find the man, never mind that he was probably being brutally tortured as they sat in classes. In fact, Harry knew the watcher was being brutally tortured.

"Not only weak, and naïve, but stupid as well," Harry sneered to himself as he thought about their actions. "The Kalderash are welcome to the redheaded witch. Hah witch they call her. Not even powerful enough to light a candle under her own power."

They still thought it was a game, even Buffy, with her near death experiences and the death of Kendra and her first watcher still did not get it, the reality remained surreal and the line between Angel and Angelus blurred. He expected her second watchers death to strike to the core. The harsh wake up call when they found what was left of his body would do them a load of good, they would either strengthen and rise to the challenge or break - and he had no use for broken tools.

It was amusing watching them fall apart without the guidance of the older reformed chaos mage. The negotiations that he had undertaken with the Kalderash the previous night prevented her from interfering and stepping in to help the Scooby gang and that suited his plans perfectly.

He knew that they had received notice and been sent a meeting place and time and without someone spelling out to them that this was in fact a WAR and not a game, they would no doubt learn a very important lesson on how the world worked – and that too suited his plans.

As much as all of his plans had gone smoothly that night, it galled him that Angelus had managed to land that blow, it should not have been possible, he was stronger than that better. Or so he had thought.

He should have been stronger and faster than that, but the weak muggle body just refused to strengthen as fast as he would like, despite CSE's efforts. In fact, without his reliance on his magic and CSE, he would be pitifully weak and insignificant amongst the dangers of the Hellmouth. He couldn't help shuddering at the thought.

Still, he would ensure that Angelus died for the affront.

"You know he would not have had the chance, even as weak as you are, if you had just taken him out with all the weapons in your arsenal, or used me." CSE appeared beside him smugly, replaying the moment his face hit the concrete floor in slow motion within his mind – Harry would never be able to forget that moment. CSE would not let him and for good reason, that mistake could have gotten him killed.

"CSE, I NEVER show what I am fully capable of, to my allies or enemies. The only people who know the limits of my power are dead, and I intend for it to stay that way. More than one ally has later become my enemy, all alliances are by their nature transient. It is a lesson that I learned through pain and blood a long time ago in my war with Voldemort. I make sure that I only make a mistake once."

"No. People are either with me or against me. There is no grey area in between for alliances."

Once, only once, had he allowed himself to give a little bit of trust to an ally during wartime. He had been relatively new to the wizarding world and CSE and he were still exploring their limits. When they had betrayed him it had been a bitter lesson in the conduct of conflict and in a wider war, and one that had shaped his thinking from then on. Not even Xander's weak, emotional attachments that had threaded their way into his personality could change that. After all, he viewed everyday as a war against his enemies, a challenge to be overcome.

"Besides, I am more interested in the probes we launched earlier today. Were we right?"

His strike against the Whitehouse had fulfilled his plans beyond his expectations. Not only had it drawn their attention to the threat that the supernatural posed to their world. But it had destabilized the superpower and laid the foundations of future plans within plans that he knew would bear some VERY positive fruit in the future.

The heightened alert in which they held their forces was just candy since it had allowed him to properly assess their capability far more rapidly and with far greater efficiency than it would have otherwise been possible.

It boggled the mind that as splintered as humanity was, that someone had not taken over a lot sooner. Harry just smirked, 'it will just make things ever more effortless.'

It was too simple to find a flashpoint that would splinter humanity further, there existed hundreds of potential flashpoints around the world, just waiting to be exploited. It was just like his attack on the Whitehouse, kicking over that anthill had resulted in economic, military and foreign policy uncertainty.

Finding a religious flashpoint in Indonesia, and exploiting it by launching his probes from a major city street, would exploit the religious flashpoints that existed there, sending ripples across the world and further isolating the US and its allies. 'Such a silly idea, religion,' Harry chuckled in anticipation to the confusion that would no doubt follow. 'Praying for strength instead of seeking it - I probably would have taken a shot at it eventually anyway.'

But the launch of his probes was far more important than merely kicking over the preverbal anthill in some backward mud plane or dabbling further in the foreign policy space of Superpowers. No, he had by no means forgotten the threats out in the wider galaxy, threats that in his mind far outweighed any supernatural struggle that filled the cracks of society on earth and the probes were the first step in any potential defenses that he would later build.

As lax as humanity had been in designing and constructing planetary defenses, and as technologically backward as they were, a scout ship from a middling power could have annexed them long ago. A reliance on nothing but staying hidden amongst the stars was a poor defense, particularly when they insisted on emitting as much electromagnetic pollution as they could.

Harry shrugged, unconcerned. If they had managed to stay off the radar for as long as they had, then he had the months he needed to ramp up some proper defenses. Beyond that, once he had solved his labor issues, a fleet was well within the realms of possibility.

He had finally managed to build his base up enough such that the construction of inherently magical electronic devices could be manufactured with ease. The passive techno-magical devices would quickly disburse themselves among the gravitational eddies of the solar system and provide real time streaming of any potential external threats.

The probes inherent magical nature made it impossible to further overlay muggle repelling charms without inhibiting their function. Not that he was too worried, the so called missile launch would only draw more attention the multiple threats out there and could in no way be linked back to him.

"After our strike on the Whitehouse, US forces have only intensified their alertness. Economic volatility is at an all time high and electronic chatter has just started moving off secure networks allowing me to monitor and change data to our advantage. Harry, as we suspected the launch of our probes sparked frequent satellite sweeps of the area and I have found mention of a military op in planning that plans to base themselves here. The Initiative."

"It seems that they have discovered rudimentary knowledge of the supernatural and between you message on in the oval office and the launch, which they mistakenly noted as a missile launch, they are planning further actions." Unmentioned was the large body count. This was war and the message he had burnt onto the president's desk and the ease in which he breached their defenses were far more noteworthy in his mind than a few dead bodies.

Though the ruthlessness that he had used was just as valid in pointing out the potential costs inherent in failure, it was not an option.

"It was inevitable that the most active of the seven Hellmouth's would draw attention once a rudimentary knowledge of the supernatural was obtained."

"Rudimentary," he snorted in wry amusement "that will just get them killed." Still, rudimentary was better than complete blindness, but he saw a few more bloodbaths in the future before the US gained much more knowledge than that. Setting up a base here though, in territory he had claimed, that was not on.

"Whatever, see what you can do to delay their deployment will you CSE, mess with their computers, their logistics, hijack a nuke, whatever it takes. I still need time before I can claim this town, hell this state, as my own before I directly confront the US military. When I do confront them, I want to do so from a position of strength and I want them to have a thousand other things to worry about besides ceding me some territory."

Harry chuckled in dark amusement at the way his plans were unfolding as he continued his random wanderings among the dark streets of Sunnydale - Violently and chaotically, but still according to all of his carefully crafted plans.

He grunted in satisfaction, breaking his last train of thought, as a silent alarm was tripped. He had been waiting for that particular alarm to be tripped for a while now. For such a secretive and elite assassination organization as the Order of Teraka, and one that relied almost completely at remaining unseen and unnoticed, it had surprised him that the rings they wore, were overlaid with some very identifiable, albeit lowly powered, charms work.

He had compared the bronze and the silver rings from the collection he had been acquiring. 'Elite assassins, they don't know what one is. If I had my power back, I would strike fear into the heart of the organization and tear the walls around the bloody remains of any guild member who presumed to stand in my way,' he thought with annoyance. Only his weakness allowed them to be the slightest threat, and their constant knowing at his plans was a constant reminder that he was far from what he had been.

The charms that overlaid the rings were an incredible oversight, and one that he had exploited mercilessly. As it was they had proved a distraction as they stole what little time he had to build up his former strength.

Despite the ease at which he had found the other assassins through their rings however, the last silver ringed assassin of Teraka had remained hidden for far longer than he was comfortable with. In a town that he controlled, no piece of information should have remained hidden from him for so long. Then there was timing of the blip, it was suspicious and he would have be careful, less he become entrapped. He no longer had the strength that he was used to and for the assassin to reappear just as Angelus's plans were reaching fruition, was at best, an unhappy coincidence.

The fact that the remaining member of the hit squad, that had been tasked with taking him out, had managed to remain hidden and disguise the rings signature indicated that he was by far the most lethal, the most dangerous, and potential the most disrupting to his future plans out of the trio of assassins.

Still, he never let a challenge to his authority and power go unanswered and when he could not politically outmaneuver, manipulate events that would lead to an enemies down fall, or just assassinate a challenger unseen, direct combat was always an option.

Allowing a feral grin to spill out from underneath his hooded trench coat in anticipation to what would no doubt be a fight for his life, he allowed his magic to relax into his surroundings, mingling with the dark energies of the Hellmouth. A shimmer surrounded him as CSE seeded the surrounding air with millions of metallic, nanites, willing to instantaneously follow his commands in both attack and defensive actions.

The last surviving assassin was close to Sunnydales industrial park, near where he had been monitoring Angelus's little gathering with his former buddies. The time had arrived to end the games he had been playing once and for all.

The time was now.

In fact he would have just enough time to conclude his business before the school children arrived to play. It was perfect. He may not have been completely ready, but he could feel in the depths of his magical core, that time plans and counter plans were over and it was time for Harry Potter to re-emerge. One way or another.

Conscious of a trap, Harry studied the area around the assassin for any sign of reinforcement or unusual magical residue. He couldn't detect anything untoward, his observational bugs swarmed the area – with the Hellmouth obscuring everything, they would need to be careful not to miss even the most minor magics. Satified that he had not missed any pre-laid traps, he switched his examination onto the assassins remaining team member, looking for any hint as to what he had planned...and found him surprisingly disappointed.

The man was unspectacularly average. Neatly cropped hair, brown eyes and cleanly shaven, he lacked any visible scars or demonic disfigurements – in fact, he was slightly overweight as if from a sedentary lifestyle, and aside from the silver ring that adorned his left hand Harry would have had a hard time picking the assassin from the crowd.

Rather than putting him to ease, it put him in an even more alert state. This man was clearly good at what he did and became whoever he needed to be at the time, a seemingly perfect assassin. Harry snarled darkly, he had met and killed more assassins in his lifetime than the order had on their payroll. It was an integral component to the society he had set up, both within and outside of the family structures.

This average looking man would have to be hiding something spectacular to have called him out so confidently.

Regardless of the man's clear challenge, and there being no sign of this being a trap, Harry aperated almost a block away and walked the remaining distance. Keeping a very close eye on his surroundings, almost in disbelief at the man's arrogance, he strutting the final distance confidently towards the waiting Teraka member, he could not afford to show any hint of weakness, this would be no shadow play.

They were beyond that now, he had won that round. No, this was the pride of Teraka, an order that had never failed, against Harry Potter, great war and religious leader to his people. The fact that he was severely weakened did not come into it.

No – the only consideration was that this man clearly felt confident enough to challenge him such an arena, clearly the man knew something that he did not and that made him decidedly uneasy. Only one would walk away from this conclusion and he was used to ruthlessly exploiting the smallest mistakes. Still, he had to wonder what made this average looking man so overwhelmingly confident.

"So, you have stopped hiding, perfect – that will make this go much quicker." Harry's tone was arrogantly measured, all his sensors magical and technologic, on a constant watch for a trap. The other penny to drop, but he showed none of his uncertainty.

Nor did the assassin, he just stood there. Stoically.

"I have worm. My colleagues were weak - not worthy of the silver ring, and you have proven challenge enough to be able to face me when you meet your end. I can assure you, you will not leave this place." Harry had to suppress a shiver at the chilled quality of the Assassins voice, it was as cold as a dementors and held as little life.

But it was the thickness, the oily blackness of the magic that rolled off the being that caused him to reconsider his original plans of simply magically and physically overwhelming the silver ringed assassin. Even his own was not as steeped in darkness and to his senses, his magic and that continuously roiling off the Hellmouth, shied away from the Assassins magical aura.

Judging from the way the mans magical repelled any other source of power, it was likely that any warding or traps laid by the man would have gone undiscovered anyway. CSE's nanites screen, as imbued by his own magic as they were, proved ineffective in the face of the disturbing figures dark power.

He had only rarely encountered such a thing and each time it had proven a very dangerous encounter. His magical power would become next to useless in this context and his weak muggle body a dangerous hindrance. But, having encountered such a situation in a handful of cases in the past, and having survived them. He had a solution, if he had time to initiate them.

It was often the case, being so rare, that beings with such a power became over reliant and confident in their dark power. For a lesser opponent, it would not matter – they would quickly overwhelm all in their way. From what he had seen on this world, none existed with the power to overwhelm this assassin.

Then, he had never faced Harry Potter, he would have to overcome this threat with his own power and cunning, disavowing his reliance on CSE and his wealth of magical knowledge and the challenge would be a delicious foreplay to the confrontation that he knew was coming, if he survived.

"I see you have power of your own," this time it was Harry the stood impassively, quickly running through a potential plan to a ridiculous margin of error, as the man smiled a cold and calculating smile.

"Maybe you have never encountered anyone stronger and felt confident that you never would, your magical power is impressive. I have seen you take down those other fools that carried the silver ring with it quickly. I have studied your limits and now I have little doubt that you will die." Harry studied the man carefully, the dark assassin's magic seemed be growing thicker, blacker and if the man HAD watched his fights with the other two assassins then he certainly knew of some of his favorite tactics – he was right in saying that none of them would work against him in this fight.

Anything created by his magic was worthless in the face of his dark power – but the assassin was foolish to think he had seen all of what Harry was capable of and he wasn't suicidal enough to try to use his power against such an enemy.

"But the Order of Teraka is OLD. It knows mysteries that have long been lost, to me your power means little. To those, whose power I channel, it means even less."

Harry shook his head, and ordered CSE to recall all the nanites – in this fight they would be useless and he would need the energy if this conflict became prolonged. 'Why did they always want to gloat' he thought in annoyance and disgust at the man's gloating arrogance, 'time was a wasting, gloat after I'm dead assassin.'

Deciding to hurry things up a little and put his plan into action, Harry conjured a giant whip of flame and watched as it easily sliced through the brick, steel and bitumen alike, igniting the surrounding wooden structures and even melting the stone on which the stood with it's intense heat– but left the average looking man standing unharmed – as expected. The magic that had gone into conjuring the superheated stream of air, became nullified upon contact to his dark aura.

Secondary flames started to engulf some of the neighboring buildings, adding smoke and heat to the battlefield which only aided him in a prolonged engagement. CSE would ensure that his blood remained oxygenated, and his thoughts clear and unconfused from smoke inhalation. This assassin did not have that advantage, his blood would quickly become poisoned, his lungs choked and his thoughts muddled. Time was once again on his side.

"As you seem so keen to die, I will oblige you."

Harry slipped away happily as the man's retaliatory magical strike shattered the two warehouses that had previously been located beside where he had been standing, merely adding more fuel to the inferno that would soon engulf this entire district. As expected, the assassin gave chase through the maze of the industrial sector, following Harry's lead, thinking that he was running him down.

In this fight, his magic was useless as a primary weapon and as thickly as the man's black power surrounded him, he did not like the thought of getting close enough to take him on physically. His two largest advantages had been stripped from him, but as much as the assassin had lambasted him about over reliance on magic, he had fallen into the same trap. The power that he had boasted to channeling, had allowed him to neglect other areas of offensive and defensive capability.

'Now this was a fight he would relish in the years to come,' Harry thought in delight as he narrowly avoided being blasted to his constituent atoms, even as his destructive follow up failed to penetrate the mans magical defenses. He would have enjoyed watching anyone else being flayed alive by the flurry of conjured blades from an unexpected direction.

Unnoticed by the man was the way the blades scattered the debris and guided the spread of the growing fire. Already Harry could feel the back drafts, and differential in air pressures as the fires sucked as much air as it could to fuel itself. It was just as he predicted.

His strength, cunning and ruthlessness matched against a foe that, he freely admitted, held more magical power than he would, at the rate that CSE was rebuilding his core, for years to come. In fact, he doubted that the man would have been so easy to lead around the battle field if he had been a little more ruthless and a little less sadistic. He was enjoying playing with a seemingly helpless victim too much for his own good.

By the time he realized that his poor victim had teeth, it would be too late. He would be trapped in blistering heat, and the air would be sucked from his lungs. The man would die an agonizing death of being burnt alive.

'Stop enjoying this so much and put this arrogant bastard down,' CSE yelled from inside his mind as a stray piece of debris took a chunk from his face, missing his eye by millimeters. CSE would eventually heal it, without a scar, and was merely vocalizing his annoyance at this fight taking so long – but the inferno was almost ready. The dark assassin almost just where he wanted the man.

"I will enjoy roasting you alive with all the powers at my command,' the assassin laughed heartily, effortlessly shattering another building in his path as Harry slipped another corner.

It was over almost as soon as it started, despite his power and the assassins overwhelming magical advantage in stripping Harry of his most powerful tools. The man had grown lazy and over-reliant on his often overwhelming magic. Once he had started to breathe in noxious fumes, it became merely a dangerous game of cat and mouse. No longer a challenge.

It was a disappointment and one that he hoped he could take out on Angelus. Despite all the man's boasting, he had been almost easier to take down than the others.

"It is over," Harry stopped, turning to face the average looking and slightly overweight man. He had not escaped unscathed either as the flames encroached from all directions. The man's clothes were steaming dangerously and his face was covered with a layer of ash and his reddened skin could be seen sharply through the black and white ash.

Harry knew that they were both a sight as they stared at each other in the middle of the inferno.

"Yes it is." The assassin agreed as he drew deeply on his dark power. The channeled magics boiled dangerously at his unstable emotions. "There is nowhere else to run."

Harry just smiled disappointingly. For all the man's destructive power, he had been lead around by the nose, confused and disorientated by the smoke and flames. He was even giving Harry the few seconds he needed to build an unnecessarily powerful attack, as if Harry would just stand and take it.

Pitiful.

Harry aperating out as the flames converged on their position, the small clearing that they had sought away from the flames reached flashpoint. Harry new that any air would have vanished in an instant as the very stones burned from the intense heat, sucked away by the hungry flames and pushed aside by poisonous and superheated gasses . A deadly environment, quickly created by nature not magic, and so not taken out by his magic's, the assassin would not even have had the breathe to scream.

Already he could feel CSE working to heal his wounds from the chase and Harry had to admit that once again, his lack of strength, had almost become critical. The chase, mere child's play, had almost entirely stripped him of most of his reservoirs of energy.

Time – he was out of TIME and he still had Angelus to deal with.

Snarling animalisticly, Harry took of in the direction of the hideout that he knew they were holed up in. The fire might jump to their building and he wanted to catch them before the scattered. Already he could hear sirens in the distance. One way or another tonight would finish it.

He could feel it.

* * *

"Aarggg, why won't it come out?" Angelus cried out in a rage, fruitlessly tugging at the sword that wedged itself into the chest of the demon Acathla.

The master vampire's actions just caused Spike to reflect. 'How things had changed,' he thought childishly as he stared blankly at the body hanging from the rafters of the warehouse that had become their newest lair. The body's neck was bent unnaturally around a leather noose and a pair of reading glasses were fragmented and embedded into the man's eyes.

Even if the man had wanted to answer Angelus cry, he was far beyond that now.

Spike dragged a deep breathe through his cigarette and glanced forlornly at his undead lover Drusilla. She was singing almost inaudibly to her self as she made a necklace out of what was left of the mans fingers and toes, he had watched as they had slowly been detached from the man through the course of the day. His cries of pain, went unanswered to his end.

No-one noticed tortured screams in Sunnydale, and even if they did happen to notice screams – in the industrial park where they had set up, they would have been fearfully ignored. Too many deserted Warehouses shielded from sunlight.

"I should have turned him when I had the chance, just so I could have torture the British bastard some more. Why didn't you answer?" Spike watched as Angelus turned his frustrations on further mutilating the watchers body.

Turning his gaze from his recently returned Sire, Spike couldn't help but sulk a little. He had been relegated to little more than the weak little fledgling minions that lounged around their lair uselessly. 'No bloody pride,' Spike thought with distaste as he watched them waste away their undead lives. They didn't even have a taste for the greatness that was possible for their kind, or the power available to them.

'Relegated to minion,' Spike thought depressingly, lighting up another cigarette – his third in a row. 'I've had just enough of it, Angelus can sodding well go crawl back under the rock he came from.'

All his plans, his power, had been effectively taken from him. He hadn't felt this useless since they had rampaged through Europe, with Darla, as the Scouge, and then he could take his frustrations out, without consequences, on the cattle that filled the land. He could indulge in a bit of wanton slaughter.

Now, he couldn't even do that – a bloody Slayer infested the Hellmouth, not to mention this damned Holder, and he wasn't careless enough to want to take either one of them on without careful planning.

"That Holder of a Hellmouth, you will get yours. I'll make sure of it," Angelus's rage was building, Spike noted in concern. It would be just a matter of time before he was unwillingly dragged into something suicidal. He liked to think that he had grown in cunning and power since those days of Europe. Suicidal was not how he described any of his plans lately, and he wasn't about to restart.

The holder was definitely on his stay clear off list. He didn't delude himself in thinking that there wasn't anything bigger or badder out there.

Yet Angelus clearly had little fear of the blond Slayer, capturing and torturing her watcher was an invitation to be hunted down. Maybe the master vampire knew something he didn't. Spike smirked, while he had two slayers under his belt, Angelus had one notched on his bedpost. Now that, would gain him boasting rights in the demon community for decades.

As for this self proclaimed 'Holder of the Hellmouth.' No one knew what his angle was.

Spike's eye was drawn away from the pacing and ranting Angelus and back to the stripped carcass that hang from the ceiling, noting the half dozen iron spikes driven through the body at points that he knew where carefully chosen to deliver maximum pain and minimum damage. Prolonging the pain.

He liked a spot of torture as much as the next vampire, but what he had witnessed through the day. Spike shook his head, Angelus had been in a rage like he had rarely seen and the watcher had paid for it. Rather than calming him down however, his Sire was even more enraged. To the end, the British watcher had not given up the information that Angelus was certain that he had held.

He was tough, and he never seen it like. Maybe he hadn't known.

'Nahh,' thought Spike with another long drag, 'he had known something and hadn't given it up.' Not many could stand up to an enraged Angelus like that and as soon as he finished his cigarette he would take back his warehouse. It rankled that a mortal had done what he feared to, then again, he didn't want to be tortured to death either and Angelus was almost berserk by now.

Spike lowered his cigarette for a minute, catching a hint of wood smoke, before shrugging and taking a long drag. He was probably just smelling his own cigarette.

Thus far, Angelus's rage and savagery combined with his discovery of Acathla, had allowed him leeway in taking over but now his gambit with the watcher had failed. He had failed, and The Judge had probably fully recovered from his dismemberment by now. Not even a few vamp minions could stand up to The Judge if he decided enough was enough and master vamp or not, Angelus would not stand up to a demon like The Judge. Immune to his primary power or not.

"How the mighty have fallen," Spike watched as the Judge stepped closer to the ranting master vampire from where he too had been watching Angelus's raging. It seemed that the blue skinned demon too, had run out of patience and was ready to make his own play. He was comfortable watching, there would be a greater opportunity after any fight between the two, and after all, no-one in their right mind took on a bloody berserker Angelus's and lived about it.

"While I was not conscious as you would deem it, even I had heard whisperings of Angelus's ruthlessness, savagery, power." The Judge's booming voice drew the attention of the minions to the latest power play in the group. Spike had little doubt who would win the scuffle and as much as he wished to see his basted Sire humiliated after he had pushed him and his plans aside, he was sure that this was not a fight he wanted to interfere in.

Slowly moving closer to Drusilla, Spike eyed the sewer entrance towards the back of the warehouse. If things spun out of control, he would make sure he could quickly escape.

"Now, despite no stink of humanity on you – I am disappointed. You are weak, and you ally yourself to weakness." Simultaneously, all of Angelus's fledgling minions, who Spike had dismissed in distaste lit up in flames as their humanity was rapidly burned from them. Their screams and the ease in which The Judge had flamed them sent a shiver down his undead spine and he moved closer to Drusilla and the sewer exit. He definitely did not feel up to the heat, there were still too many people to kill and plans to bedevil.

In fact, Spike would have already fled, but Drusilla was still humming to herself contently in the corner, playing with her necklace of fingers and toes. It had been her birthday after all.

This was bad.

Spike watched as Angelus slowly turned to face the blue skinned demon, snarling more like an animal than a human. His demon felt closer to the surface than Spike had ever seen in a vampire, master or fledgling.

So engrossed in the approaching conflict, Spike missed the smoke that started to drift under the almost closed roller doors of the warehouse, and the slight increase in ambient temperature.

"Do you think," Angelus crouched low as if ready to lunge, "that my minions matter anymore than your thicker demonic blood. I will see you dismantled for another six hundred years."

Angelus lunched at The Judge, clawing for the eyes and teeth lashing for the Blue skinned throat. But The Judge had been old before Angelus been born and easily matched the master vampires formidable strength and savagery with a hearty laugh.

With a pained snarl, Angelus was flung helplessly at the demon he had felt would help him such the world into hell. Landing heavily, blood splattered over from a shattered eye socket and flattened nose, over the sword causing it to twitch. Seizing the opportunity, Angelus yanked the sword out of Acathla, not even bothering to notice the demon start to draw breath, and held it before him in an aggressive stance.

The Judge just stood unconcerned by the development as the dust of an army of fledgling vampires swirled at his feet.

"Blood magic, why does it always have to be blood magic."

The open roller door shuttered and groaned as it slammed into its tracks, allowing Spike, Angelus and The Judge to see the raging inferno that surrounded the warehouse, unnoticed until now. Now open, Spike could feel the air being suckled out of the enclosed space and the thick black spoke rolling in. He was glad vampires did not need to breath, being dead and all.

"The poor bastard probably didn't know after all." Spike stared at the suicidal figure that had just interrupted the fight between a berserker Angelus and The Judge. His trench coat was ripped and torn as if having just survived a war, just to smolder and smoke dangerously from the heat of the inferno. A large bloody gouge was missing from his face just below his right eye and piercing green eyes starred mockingly at the mutilated corpse of the Slayers watcher.

"Well, if it isn't the white knight himself, or should I call you doughnut boy now Xander." Angelus, lowered his sword, saluting mockingly, and Spike stepped back in surprise, why would….? Something was seriously wrong here.

'What wasn't wrong?' he asked himself worryingly. A mouth of hell was opening up at their feet, his Sire had gone berserk on the Judge and now Xander had just walked in, unconcerned at the overwhelming odds or the watchers tortured corpse, confident.

"I prefer Holder of the Hellmouth now actually," 'Yes, definitely time to disappear.' Spike thought getting ready to club Drusilla and cart her off. Still, his deeper instincts told him to stay, watch, witness what was about to unfold. Something was about to shake the dimensions and change things forever.

"You, the holder? Don't make me laugh boy." Spike watched fearfully as a silvery sheen descended from the air, engulfing the three figures, distorting his view. Angelus's just stood their, ignorant of the danger.

"Heh – let me just take care of The Judge and I will be right with you Angelus." Despite his proclamation, Xander remained still, staring at the master vampire, appearing to ignore the blue skinned demon altogether. Spike, moved deeper into the shadows, disguising himself in the thick smoke that had filled the warehouse, if this was indeed the holder he had been hearing so much about, then anything was possible.

"Don't be foolish boy, I can smell your human taint from here and no weapon forged by man can ever harm me."

Spike blinked in surprise, human taint; did that mean he was mortal? Was the Holder in fact Human?

"Who said anything about Human forged demon?" Spike shivered again in uncertainty and fear, the cruel smirk that graced the boys face was unholy. Then the screaming begun.

The Judge who had been so indifferent to Angelus's berserker rage, screamed in an agony filled voice. Spike still couldn't see any movement from the Holder, and the mouth to hell grew wider. Instincts or not, he would need to flee soon. Still, he had to admit that the extent to which that attack had strained him was increasingly hard to tell from his view through all the smoke.

"Impressive," Angelus grunted and stepped closer to the pair as The Judge's cries grew fainter and the demon stumbled, his skin stripped from his flesh, and bones seemingly disintegrating within his body, removing the support that his frame required to stand. Was this the power of the Holder? Spike reinforced his view that The Holder was definitely on his off limits list.

"Yes, CSE can be quite creative." Xander smirked at the master vampire who still bore the wounds from his fight with The Judge. Spike glanced down at what remained of the blue skinned demon. A smear on the concrete. If he could do something like that to a demon of the Judges power with such seeming ease, then no one was safe, despite Angelus's bravado.

Glancing at Drusilla, and at the still growing gateway to Hell, Spike made a decision. Angelus had gradually gotten closer to the Holder, no doubt in an attempt to surprise him with that massive sword he had ripped out of Acathla. Spike was convinced that Angelus's action would be in vain.

No, he would send them both to hell and then he was getting as far away from Sunnydale as he could.

In a reminder that he too was a master vampire, Spike rushed the two combatants, silently and visibly shielded by the thick black smoke that had been created by the burning industrial park, and body slammed them both into the gateway. Only Angelus looked surprised as they both disappeared into the gapping maelstrom of demonic energy. Xander actually looked amused as the vortex closed after them.

And that amused smirk would haunt him for months.

A thud sounded as the rafter that held the mutilated corpse of the watcher burnt through, reminding him it was more than time to leave.

By the time, Buffy and Willow struggled through the flames at the edge of the inferno in a belated attempt to rescue their watcher, it was all over.

The sound of retching could be heard over the roaring flames, and they barely made it back out again – without the watchers body. Things would not bee the same again.

* * *

"The damage to the game is almost irreversible," announced a disembodied voice that sounded like both a man and a woman speaking almost in synchronicity.

"Our suspension of the rules have not had the expected effect." The voice continued. The game board that the voices had been monitoring for time immeasurable was pitted and cracked. The red and blue spheres that had previously danced and maneuvered with an intensely bright clarity were now masked by a black growth.

"We may need to destroy the pieces to restore the game."

"Did you really expect the suspension of the rules to restore the game to what it was and has been since the beginning?" A dark whisper hissed in mockery. "Were you that naïve, to have been out played so easily?"

A deep chuckle boomed through the plane that had been constructed for this very reason. "Your power was in its ascendancy when you forced this game upon us. You so called 'powers that be', failed to see the evil and chaos in the world, in humanity. This game is the epitome of Order. We are glad to get rid of it."

"Your rules were a farce, and now it is ended. The game has changed and the conflict that is coming will not be fought through oracles and proxies. You have forgotten, and it is time to remember what it was like to take a direct role in events."

The dark hissing chuckle grew to a hearty gale as the game board broke apart. The red and blue colored pieces scattered and mingled, loosing their former color. "Without the game board, both of our Champions will be cut adrift and the Chaos generated will prove me RIGHT. After so long you will witness."

"What of them? They will interfere." The duel voices, identified as the powers that be, spoke out. Emotions such as anger, and loss meant little to beings of power such as these. "You will not win, the bet is still ongoing even as both our millennial long plans are disrupted."

"Like you, they have their own interpretation of the universe, they will not interfere as long as the bounds set when even WE were children, remain."

"And I will watch your prideful downfall. It is ever thus." A third mocking voice entered, this time ignored by both sides.

And so, the plane that had monitored and manipulated thousands upon thousands of generations of mortals, simply, ceased to exist. Without the purpose that it had been created for, the powers that had previously sustained it disappeared.

Everything that was, that had been thought to be, changed.


End file.
